Rapture
by Laryna6
Summary: What could the Legendary Dark Knight have seen in a human woman? How Dante's and Vergil's parents might have gotten together and scenes from the twins' childhood. Romance, violence and cute kids. SpardaEva.
1. I First Impressions

Disclaimer: Don't own DMC, or anything else mentioned in this fic. Kudos to anyone who catches the references. Something nice (suggestions welcomed) will be given to anyone who catches them all.

Notes: 3 takes place around 1991: Dante is around 18. 1 is in 2001, I'm pretty sure I saw somewhere. So, Dante and Virgil were born around 1973: Sparda died when they were young enough that Dante has no memories of him and only knows him through the stories Eva told him, so between conception and 1975 or so, and Eva died around 1981 due to the mention of 20 years in 1, Virgil running off soon after. They had been meeting to fight a long time before 3, due to Dante's comment about how the last time he saw Virgil was a year ago and he was clearly used to being his enemy.

In the artbook, Sparda's and Dante's guns are inscribed: For Tony Redgrave.

We have no canon information on Eva other than that she was Sparda's only lover, she raised Dante and Virgil after his death, she wore red and black (the photo), and Dante reveres her despite her being human.

Canon, Devils are smarter than humans. Also, given that Sparda was at least 2000 and probably more like 5 times that, he'd had a long time to acquire wisdom. So, to be able to converse with him as an equal, she had to be highly intelligent. Also, we know she was killed 'by evil.' It makes sense that after whatever killed Sparda, old enemies, demons and cultists alike, would come after his family. Also, she raised two boys who were certainly incredibly strong and smart without them becoming contemptuous of her: to keep them alive and to keep any authority in her house, she must have been incredibly tough.

Given that she was therefore someone tough in an era with very few woman fighters, and she had the skills to fight demons, she had to have been a demon hunter. A woman in a 'man's job' in the middle of the era of feminism, dealing with men who would have wanted in her pants (she was very hot.)

Also, demon hunter isn't something you get careers counseling about. She must have had a lot of hate to dedicate her life to killing things, even to save lives.

I was going to do research on the time, but there's just too much. Forgive me. There's only a little time placement. Set in 1966, upstate New York.

Oh, and in the DMC1 intro cutscene, Dante keeps the motorcycle in midair. I'm assuming anything Dante can do, Sparda can do better.

St. Lucian was a sorcerer who converted, and Jude Thaddeus was an exorcist, among other things, who became the patron of lost causes due to being confused with Judas and hence not revered: his reputation was a lost cause.

**A Korean translation of this chapter is on the translator's website. There is a link on my author page (bio).**

- - - - - -

The job hadn't started well, and it didn't look like things were going to look up anytime soon.

First, Don Bonanno's sleazy nephew had decided to be the one to come inform her of the job. DiGregorio knew better than to piss her off, but the Bonanno guy thinks he's on the top of the world since he's come back. She hoped someone'd off him soon.

Kid was high when he came in: sampling the merch. Tried to get her to take some. Like she'd hit 24 in this line of work by being stupid? Get her rep, and they start trying to take you out deliberate. Get tipsy or high and you could kiss your ass goodbye.

And she definitely wasn't going to take anything from some punk after her ass. Standard job, standard rate. The farms and resorts back in the boonies were big business for the mob: and what with all the new cults springing up, a lot of them decided to get themselves places out in the country, near the city.

Not that she was against Wicca and the new stuff: at least it was better than Christianity, and it made it easier to get supplies, but they didn't know anything about anything.

She'd picked up some Satanist books at the occult shop she went to for Rowan wood and so on and nearly burst a gut laughing. You had to wonder though. The truth wasn't that hard to dig up. She'd figured out a lot of stuff just by doing research, before she'd managed to track down Redgrave and make him give her pointers.

The Sparda legend was told all over the world, like the flood myth. Sure, the only legend that actually called him a name was the Roman one, but the demon stories were ancient in the Americas way before Columbus.

Demons were real, and if you showed them a cross, they wouldn't even know what it was, most of them.

But the books all had the Christian bullshit. Son of Morning, yadda yadda yadda. Holy water. Crosses, standing around chanting… you'd get vivisected; you stayed still for more than a second around a demon.

Now, if you mixed powered silver and iron and a few other things and magic and tossed it at them, that'd use up a lot of their healing powers. Hunters called the mix Holy Water as a joke. But calling on god did you no good at all.

But given how easy the real stories, the real rites, were to dig up, you'd think someone writing a book would give you something approaching the real scoop. Unless it was a cover up.

But given it was so easy, every so often the cults managed to call up something real, something that wasn't interested in souls, just flesh, and laughed at their protections. So you'd get bands of rampaging demons slaughtering people. Bad for business. So she got called in.

Give her the info, give her the money, and get the hell out of the way. That was how it went. But this idiot?

Cased her joint, walked around as if he owned the place. Wanted to check out the bedroom. Like you could have a bedroom and a training room in New York. Wanted to take her out to a bar. Wanted to 'negotiate.' Asked to 'see her skills' before deciding her fee. Promised a 'little extra.'

Didn't even have the goddamn cash on him, when she pulled out one of her guns. Ran off threatening to tell his uncle on her, how the previous Dons had been idiots, sending a whore to do a man's job.

Her usual guy came the night after next.

So, she got up to a resort place in the area, illegal gambling, all expense paid. She'd gone down to the bar: people who'd had encounters, seen things, usually wanted to get drunk right away and spilled things. The bartender had been told to make nice.

But she couldn't get him alone; he kept getting dragged off to make specialty drinks. Like this one bozo with an ego the size of Manhattan who wanted his martini 'shaken, not stirred.' It made a difference how? She decided to win some cash and wait for things to settle down, but she ended up next to this redhead with bad teeth who wanted to 'shag' her. Couldn't play cards either.

And that guy with the eye patch, the white fur muff and the redhead kept giving the two other bozos double entendres instead of playing baccarat. She tried to tell the dealer they were all palming cards, but he was took the Cyclops's word over hers. 'Little lady' indeed. The Swiss gent in the out of date ensemble decided to back her up. Like she needed help.

So she went the hell with it and kidnapped the bartender.

Shit. This wasn't a single loose Imp or something. She was going to charge extra for the bozos not telling her. Apparently the nephew had gotten yelled at for pissing her off and tried to save face by bringing up his posse.

The bodies weren't ravaged enough, and someone had tried to make it look like an accident.

Shit.

Demons didn't take orders unless there was one of the higher-ups involved.

Shit. Not looking good.

-

Rented a horse, grabbed a dowsing rod. The eye patch guy's rental estate. Why was she not surprised?

Ran into the bozos hiding in the bushes. Tried to charm her. She'd had to act all demure. Which was a waste of time. Pulling a gun wasn't. Plus, they'd tried to fight. Always a bonus.

A cultist with good enough results that the British government would send two separate 'top agents' after the guy. Peachy. She'd hauled them back to the resort: idiot civilians always just got in the way. Tried to act all macho, get disemboweled. Redgrave called 'em 'decoys,' regular gunmen who thought they could take demons. Good word.

Gotten way too short a nap, grabbed her Chief cycle, fixed a few things. Thank goodness for her coat. Couldn't have enough space-time pocket space. Just had to remember which finger twists got which weapons. And thank whoever for Redgrave's instant reload spell. As long as her coat had enough ammo, she was good to go. She'd almost gotten killed tons of times early on, having to stop to reload.

-

Too late. Too fucking late. She'd gotten there too late. They always looked the same, sacrifices: standing there, grimy and bloody in white, huddling together and looking at her beseechingly with desperate hope and why did they expect her to save them? They didn't, they shouldn't, she couldn't even save her own sister... And now the guy had a goddamn horde and whatever those gold thingies were were holding open a portal for his boss. Shit, shit, shit. Bangbangbangbang but they just kept coming and coming and she'd used up her holy waters, her Sapphire Orbs were mostly full from the energy they absorbed but Dark Runes never transformed the demon energy to something usable fast enough… she wasn't going to be able to get to the bastard in time, his shields deflected her bullets and she couldn't charge in: if they boxed her in she was dead…

"Cease this. Now." And everything stopped.

What? The Swiss guy? Who the fuck did he think he was, standing at the edge of the clearing with his hands at his sides? He was still dressed like an old nobleman. Did he actually think he could act like a goddamn knight in shining armor? In this day and age?

"How dare you! Insolent fool, you shall be the first to perish, with the power my Master Beelzebub shall grant me for unleashing him upon this foul world!"

Typical. Monologuing. Dropped his shields. Too bad the bullet only pissed him off.

"Bring me the wench and the fool who think they can oppose me!"

Oh shit… there was, she reflected as she switched to the automatics, a big difference between being held off and them giving a damn. One of the reasons women lasted longer in this business, being underestimated. Also better leg strength and less likely to act macho and try melee combat. But there wasn't anywhere to run…

Man, the guy could fight. Bonanno would try to gyp her if he heard about this… 45s? A Japanese sword? Doing melee… impressive. Looks like a fop, but has to have some serious muscle to be able to block blows and make much of a dent in this type's armored hide. Who the fuck is this guy? Redgrave said there were other hunters…

And then it was over.

She released the girls, who flocked over to the guy and chattered at him. Typical. At least he was destroying the circle while basking in the glory. Well, he was hot. Just because she had to stay a virgin to do anything useful didn't mean she couldn't look… nice le…

Oh bloody hell.

"Run!" She fired warning shots, she couldn't hit him, they were too close… "Get the hell away from here, all of you! It's not over yet!"

They looked at her stupidly, still in shock. She fired again, closer to them. "Run!" This time they did, thank god. But one of them tried to cling to the demon as though he would protect her… she probably did think that… couldn't be more than eight…

"Go on, Miss Anna." The demon pushed her gently away. "It's fine, go with the others and stay together. I'll see you get home as soon as this lady and I finish up here."

"But, Mister…" She shivered and clung tighter.

"Don't worry. It's perfectly all right, you're safe now. I give you my word." He knelt down and looked her in the eye as he said it.

"All right…" And she slowly backed away before turning and running to the other girls at the edge of the clearing.

"Good act, demon." She held her Berettas pointed at him. "But what are you trying to act for? Your boss not friendly with this guy's?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Well, this is an improvement."

"What's an improvement, bastard? And give me one good reason not to start shooting."

"That's the improvement. Usually Hunters I haven't been introduced to start shooting immediately. You're actually asking questions, and you got the young ladies out of the line of fire. Very commendable." He bowed, clicking his heels formally.

She fired. Shit. The bullets were deflected and lodged in the barrels. These guns were out of commission, she rapidly figured out. Shit. She did the twist that was supposed to send the guns back into her coat and bring out a new pair… shit. Not working? Who was this guy?

"As for the good reason, these young ladies have had a rough night as it is. Perhaps we could get them to someplace safe before continuing this discussion." He continued as though nothing had occurred, bowing at the end.

"Who the hell are you?"

He bowed again, clicking his heels. "Ritter Lucian Thaddeus von Schwärzung is the succinct version. I have rather an accumulation of titles. Might I ask your name, milady?"

"If you think I'm crazy enough to tell a demon my name, you've got another think coming, bastard." Run? But that would involve leaving all those poor girls…

He raised an eyebrow. "As you wish. Is there anything else? Given that it is almost winter, and a storm is approaching, I would prefer if we could get the children under cover."

He waited a second, but there was really nothing she could say. Her weapons were disabled, she couldn't even summon items, if she had any left, she certainly didn't have enough magic to do anything useful… and if he was pretending to be a human, he wouldn't slaughter girls at a resort, but out in the wilderness…

Taking her silence for acquiescence, he began to walk to where the girls stood. When she didn't follow, he turned questioningly.

"… don't go anywhere near them." She growled, and followed, staying well behind. Perhaps she could find a branch or something under the trees: it wouldn't help but she refused to go down without a fight…

He sighed. "If that is what is required to avoid you attacking me in front of them and scaring them further, then as you wish, milady. I'd be happy to speak to you as soon as they are taken care of." He turned and bowed.

"I'm not your goddamn lady."

"Well, I _do_ have to call you something. Is there something you would prefer?"

"I'd like you to call me your death, demon." She growled under her breath.

He laughed for only a second. "Very well, Miss Tod."

"What the fuck?" She snapped.

"Tod is German for death. Is it acceptable?"

"Ms. Todd to you."

"Is it safe, Mister?" One of the girls called from the trees.

"It should be fine, Miss." He called back. "But just in case, I'll go on ahead to scout and Ms. Tod will stay with you. There is a hotel not that far away, I'll see to it that you all get something to eat and we'll call your parents. Don't worry."

"Thank you very much, Mister…?" She said.

"Sir Lucian." He bowed again. "I'm glad I could be of assistance."

The girl blushed.

What in hell was this guy?

-

He kept his word, calling the parents while she roused the staff to prepare food. She wasn't going to let the demon anywhere near anything she and those kids were going to eat. She almost sicced the bartender on him, to keep on eye on him, but it wasn't like it would do any good.

She kept thinking, trying to figure out what was going on.

Shadows hid, they didn't reveal. She'd seen him walk through brush, he wasn't as big as the shadow portrayed and he certainly didn't have wings. Currently, anyway. So, the shadow was a deliberate illusion. Why make such a clue to his real nature if he was aping humanity?

And if that was his true form, he was a shapeshifter. Only the _really_ powerful ones could shapeshift, and that was confirmed by how easily he had managed to deflect her bullets so precisely and lock her coat. Only she should have been able to deactivate those spells: if a demon could cut off her access to her weaponry she was screwed.

What was a demon that powerful doing on earth without an invasion force? Scouting? What was all that about titles? …she couldn't handle this.

…she needed to use the phone.

-

"Redgrove Industries. Custom Weapon Manufacturing since 1821. How may I help you?"

"This is Eva Williams. May I please speak to Mr. Tony Redgrove Sr?"

"One second… you're on the list. Is it urgent?" An expectant pause.

"Indubitably."

A sigh of relief. "I'll forward you. Please hold." More of the cheery music.

"Redgrave Industries. Dealing death since 827. This is Wilma, whad'dya want?"

"This is a Hunter. I need to speak to the old man. It's big."

"He's in the middle of a two-hour chanting session on a Sword of Paradox. It's big enough?"

"It's that big."

A sigh. "Hold on a sec."

-

Tony sighed. "Let me get this straight. Swiss, white hair, monocle, freaky shadow, saved the day?"

"…yeah." Eva said, ticked off. What was so funny?

"I gotta go before the copper congeals. Ask to see his guns, kid. He's legit. Buh-bye."

"What the…" Disconnected.

She headed for the dining hall. There he was, drinking tea and nodding sympathetically. Oh, no. The demon did _not_ just pat that girl on the shoulder. Fucking _bastard_. She clenched her teeth. Not here. They fought here, those kids were fodder.

He glanced up, then back down and said something to the girls, who made sounds of dismay. He bowed again, said something, then stood up and walked over to her.

"Would you like to have that conversation now, Ms. Tod? I'm quite willing, but I would prefer that we have it someplace private, preferably out of earshot if you wish me to unlock your weaponry."

"You'd better believe I want my weapons back, demon. And until I get them, I want yours."

He sighed. "The Yamato is… temperamental. It would not be safe. And Lux and Umbra wouldn't work for you, but you may have them if it would make you feel better." He gestured, and two guns appeared as they walked out the glass doors of the dining room. He handed them over at her nod.

"…For Tony Redgrave?! What the hell?!" She yelled, stopping.

He perked up. "Oh. Do you know him? Well, not him, he's passed on, but his son?"

"Who. The. Hell. Are. You." She said quietly and sternly, keeping from growling by sheer force of will. "And none of that Sir Lucifer crap."

"Well… my actual name can't be heard by human ears, and it doesn't translate very well…" He half laughed, half sighed. Then he shrugged. "The first name I was given by humans was Dux Atrum, the Dark Commander, approximately. When I was asked what I wanted to be called…" He turned and started walking fast, saying over his shoulder, "Let's get a little farther, shall we?"

"Tell me _now_." She said, hurrying to catch up.

…'Dark General?' Why did that sound familiar? There was a black horseman in the book of Revelations, but she refused to believe the bible got anything right…

"This should be far enough." He stopped. The resort was hidden behind a ridge. He sighed. "You're probably not going to believe this…"

"I don't believe any of this. A demon, looking after little girls? Fighting his own kind? Who's ever heard of such a…" She froze.

"Ah." He laughed. "Indeed. Rather like a wolf being a vegetarian, isn't it?"

"But… he became human, didn't he? He died a long time ago! You can't be… it's gotta be some kind of…"

"Oh, the legend. Legends are stories, Ms.Tod. They survive by being told, and after a while no one believes them, and if it is just a story, than it can be altered as one pleases. Bards needed to eat too, you realize. Did you know that the character of Sir Lancelot was made up out of whole cloth after the Norman Invasion, to suit the new ruling class? In the earlier version, Artos' wife had nothing to do with his downfall, well, except for not being able to give him a heir. It's rather a shame, the poor woman being vilified for a medical condition, don't you agree?"

"Male chauvinist pigs." She said automatically, her mind a million miles away. And two thousand years.

"Your coat has been fixed. Might I have my guns back?" He said, trying to change the subject.

"Say it."

"Well… you've guessed… Sparda. It's rather a pun," he said to fill the ensuing silence. "Espada for one of the dialects' word for sword; Sparta for a city of cruel warriors; Spadus, meaning eunuch, a 'man that is not a man'…"

"Spartacus."

"Well, you weren't all completely enslaved…"

"The Legendary Dark Knight. There was a movie. An old black and white one. I saw it several times. There was a woman, and they got married, and he gave up his powers to became human and ruled…"

"Well, it doesn't make much sense to save people from being conquered just to take them over yourself, does it? And there was a senior Vestal Virgin who helped me with a certain seal, but she was chaste. Hence the virgin part. And, well… they'd just fought a rather long and bloody war with my kind. They were grateful, but… there were few who hadn't lost family… and if I lost my powers, the seal I set that makes it quite difficult for my kind to enter this world without human aid would collapse…I say, are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

"No, you're much too pale… oh dear. Here." He held out a thermos. "Don't worry, it's just tea. How long has it been since you've eaten? And that was a rather difficult battle for you, I'm sorry I took so long, I had been trying to seal the portal with magic before starting a battle, and you were doing rather well up till that point…"

"You have tea?"

"I find it helps calm people down. It is rather a symbol of comfort and rationality, hot tea, don't you agree?"

"…Yes."

"I find it does help people."

"Yes, I really shouldn't have taken this job."

"Well, in an ideal world none of this would be necessary… I really do hope they come to their senses. Going down in history is all well and good, but not enough to justify subjugating an entire race… You really would feel better if you drank the tea."

"I'm not drinking anything that has been anywhere near a demon."

"…Probably a wise policy. And it's devil, actually."

"…Just give me the tea."

"You're welcome." He smiled.


	2. II Conservation

Disclaimer: Don't own DMC. If I did, Eva would be the unlockable in 3, like Sparda in 1 and Trish in 2.

Well, my original Eva back-story was that she was captured for use as a human sacrifice, her family getting killed in the process, and she was rescued by a Hunter who averted the ceremony and placed her with a foster family. She was originally English. She was originally supposed to be more trigger-happy, ala Mary Arkham.

Guns are very persuasive. The thing about Eva is that she really does write herself. My original conception of her was that she did world-saveage and had a magic-using partner to compensate for not having the strength Dante does, to fight devils solo. However, she turned down the whole partner thing and insisted on a huge aversion to world-savage. She knows when she's not in her league. Don't talk to her about Mary: she is firmly of the opinion that only she is allowed to shoot her family.

Frankly, I can't see Eva and Sparda as love at first sight. They're both pretty much people, especially him in canon, who have by now placed the subject of marriage in the not for me category: he's a devil among humans who he has very little in common with…

I see them as getting closer until at one point while they're going about their businesses they keep thinking about each other until they suddenly realize, "I'm in love with him/her. Wait, WHEN DID THAT HAPPEN!"

Both Sparda's and Dante's guns are dedicated For Tony Redgrave: here Tony is the traditional name for the eldest son. There's the Tony who showed Sparda how to forge Lux and Umbra, Tony Sr. from First Impressions who trained Eva, Tony Jr. who trained Dante and is in _Where You Are_ as just Tony Redgrave and is the old guy with the cig in the artbook, and 'Tonto,' who is the Tony of Dante's generation and the one who was almost Dante's partner along with Aisha, because an old guy wouldn't have lasted 5 seconds.

This is in the same version of DMC as my other stories, taking place a while after _First Impressions._ Read that first.

And, as I said in my livejournal, I'm still not up to the level I want to be at when I'm working on DYDOM and so on. I'm definitely going to finish up those fics, so please bear with me until then: I'm very sorry to all my Yu-gi-oh readers. And I'm not going to do multi-chapter DMC fics because I don't want to do to the DMC fandom what I'm doing to my other poor readers.

This fic plays around a lot with the various meanings and permutations of the word courtesy. And date.

Morgan is 'of the sea,' George is 'farmer,' Sarah is 'princess,' Dolores is 'Lady of sorrows,' Toby is 'The Lord is good,' Gabriel 'Hero of God,'

Earl is derived from a word for elf.

There is, IRL, a bank in Germany named Sparda.

Oh, and this is The Four Seasons Restaurant, not hotel. Founded 1959.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

The meeting was over. The rulers of the financial world got up from around the circular table and engaged in small talk about the various presidential appointments: which would get past the Senate.

George Morgan noticed one of the foreigners heading for the door. Who was it? Oh yes. Sir Lucian. One of the Swiss banks, the 'Sparda' one… Odd get-up. Really, some of the Europeans just hadn't grasped that the days of the nobleman were over. Velvet and brocade yet. Far too old-fashioned. Even a monocle. Pity, he seemed like a sharp type otherwise. Had only spoken up twice, but both times it was to say something that everyone had to pause a second to think about. Had a reputation as a sleeping giant: played ball unless someone contravened his principles: very good at handling governments: essential with Europe still recovering…

He smoothed his silk shirt and adjusted his designer glasses, and moved over to intercept him. The fellow noticed his approach and turned to greet him.

"Mr. Morgan." von Schwärzung bowed to him. No reason to take those titles seriously. It wasn't like they meant anything nowadays. The fellow hadn't insisted on them. "My condolences on the death of your wife."

How had he…? The question must have shown on his face, for the fellow continued, "She had some overseas accounts with us, so we received the death notice. I made sure personally that they were transferred to your control to be held in trust for your children, as per her instructions. The paperwork was completed on the second."

Children… "My wife and I have… had only one child. But thank you very much for the help: what with all the new financial rigamarole, having to cross the Ts and dot the Is, it was very kind of you."

"No trouble at all." He bowed in that ostentatiously old-fashioned way, heels clicking. Almost a military bearing. But real sympathy, underneath the composed shell. "But I thought you had had three? I've received three invitations from you, several years ago, although I was unable to attend, Switzerland being isolated by the war…"

"Our daughters… there was a tragedy several years ago, and our eldest, Sarah died. Dolores never recovered… we still have our son, Toby, however. He's a great, great comfort to us."

"I'm terribly sorry to bring it up. You have my deepest respect, for holding up so well under the circumstances." He bowed again, this time with an element of true deference instead of mere formality. "It's always difficult to lose people." His eyes were sympathetic.

Of course… Switzerland had been neutral, but even so they'd been surrounded by the war… the Swiss were fellow mongrels, weren't they? French and German and a bit of Italian… Lucian was… mid-fifties, wasn't he? It was hard to tell, but he was sure he remembered, you had to respect your fellows enough to keep track of who they were. Predators in this business. Both world wars… what an era they lived in. No wonder the bright kids were all going insane with all their drugs and so on…

"Here," Morgan said, "Do you want to go out for a drink right now?"

"I'm sorry," and he truly was sorry, Morgan could tell. The guy was really winning him over, it was rare that people were this nice and meant it. "But I have a previous engagement at… oh my. I'd better hurry, it's almost 4. But I should be free tomorrow…?"

"I'm going to have to make arrangements tomorrow." Morgan sighed.

"One moment…" Lucian looked in his pockets. "Ah. Here's my card, it has where I'm staying while I'm in New York, feel free to call at any time, and I'd be honored to be invited to the funeral. If I can be of any assistance whatsoever, don't hesitate to call." He bowed again, trying not to glance at the door. "I'm dreadfully sorry, but…"

"Go ahead. I really appreciate you taking the time to chat with me when you're in such a hurry."

"Oh, I'll be fine. I detest being late, so I always schedule more than enough time for situations like these… it's just in the restaurant downstairs." Lucian shrugged it off.

"Oh? Then might I accompany you?" This formal stuff was contagious.

A slight smile. "I'm terribly sorry, but it's with a young lady, and it would be rather awkward…"

Morgan laughed. So the guy was human after all.

XOXO

"So, you're just looking me up for no real reason?"

That same little one-second laugh. "Does anyone ever do anything for no reason whatsoever? I wanted to talk to you again for several, Ms. Tod."

"Call me Eva. If you managed to track me down, you at least know that much." She looked around. The Four Seasons Restaurant. Hadn't been here in…

Classy place, but he was paying for it. Was it usually open for tea? She sipped her water.

He laughed again. She raised her eyebrow. "Huh?"

"That was rather clever of you. When we met before?" He prompted.

She snorted. "You figured it out?"

"Well, going from quite reasonable distrust to acquiescence so quickly… it was rather obvious, actually. Not that you're a bad actor, but, well, I do have a lot of experience at reading people." He shrugged.

"Well, you'd pretty well demonstrated there wasn't anything I could do to stop you doing anything you felt like doing, so I figured…" She shrugged back, smiling.

"You figured that you'd give me the opportunity to poison you if I wanted to take you out quietly: if you stayed alive and in control of yourself, you would be able to quit worrying quite so much?"

"I still don't trust you trust you, though." She smiled. It was nice not to be underestimated for once, although she'd hoped that perhaps he would be convinced she had just given up on thinking for the day… but hadn't really expected it.

"Quite reasonable. And it was very well done, Ms. Williams." He bowed his head in acknowledgement.

The waiter appeared silently, but they both were well aware of their surroundings. Sparda inclined his head, indicating she could order first. The chair legs and the tables hid his shadow, but she knew what was there. "Coffee." She said abruptly to the waiter. This place… being around someone seemingly so naturally courteous, and not the piss-someone-off and die courtesy of the mob, but then the old nobility had had power as well, hadn't they?

It was taking an effort not to fall into old habits.

"And could I have Earl Grey tea, perhaps?" Sparda smiled at the waiter. Well done. Very well done. Made him forget her rudeness instead of calling attention to it by comparison.

Well, like he'd said. He'd had a lot of practice. She had to be careful.

"Doesn't it," She waved her hand, "get kind of old, being so… isn't it a strain?"

"Well," he (it?) said, steepeling his hands, "I'm rather used to it. Warrior cultures and cultures in which it's hard to get away from people often have to develop elaborate rituals to avoid giving offence as a practical matter: we are no different. Look at England and Japan for instance."

"Islands… so it's hard to avoid people, getting in each other's space? But I thought he…" She stopped herself. "Where you're from was… rather large?"

He nodded. "One can create as large a domain as one likes: the issue is more one of time than space. It's a wise thing to avoid making enemies whom one is going to have to deal with for a long time, Ms. Williams."

Her eyes narrowed. "I told you to call me Eva. So you did do background research on me? Tony seemed rather friendly with you…"

He shook his head. "I once had occasion to be of some assistance to one of his ancestors: as the boy had no where else to go I had him placed afterwards with a foster family on one of my estates. He later prevailed on me to teach him to be a hunter by stating he would do so one day even without my instruction… I've kept up with them since, but most hunters are much less… by acting as trainers and weapons makers the Redgraves save many lives. If they were known to be allied to me, it would cripple them. So I seek their aid as little as possible. Asking them to turn over information on a hunter…" He shrugged.

"So how did you know?"

"Well, I do try to keep track of where there are competent hunters… I don't require money for my work, and it would be ill of me to deny them opportunities to use their skills and support themselves… I feel that humanity should be capable of defending itself, and hindering the development of its ability to do so would serve it ill, don't you agree?"

"That's very kind of you, Sp… what should I call you? I can't call you _that_ in public."

"I go by Ritter Lucian Thaddeus von Schwärzung. You may call me anything you like, Ms. Williams."

"Ritter means knight, right? You said estates just now, and you mentioned you had a bunch of titles that time? How'd you get them?"

"Well, a lot of them are just formalities, given for services to various crowns of the saving their kingdoms variety: a few came with lands attached. It would have caused them to be offended and worried if I had turned them down, and once I had them…" He shrugged. "I had to play the part, to look after the people."

"Apparently you've done rather well for yourself." She prodded.

"Rent money does rather seem to accumulate over time when one doesn't do much but reinvest it in the farmers. I gave some of it to Johann… a member of another one of the families I seem to have accumulated, to found a bank to give out affordable loans and invest money for people in 1672… he named it Sparda, which is rather embarrassing, but it's managed to acquire a bit of a reputation, so it wouldn't be prudent to change the name…" He shrugged sheepishly.

"I suppose if you're around for long enough… how old are you?"

"Well, I've spent coming up on 1973 years on earth, and what I think works out to around 6000 in what you call hell: we're not very precise about timekeeping, as it is possible to make time run at different speeds in different domains."

"What do you call it?" She asked.

He laughed. "Curious, aren't we?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Most demons don't talk, and I've never been around one who wasn't trying to kill me."

"Know thy enemy? Indeed. Well…" He stopped as the waiter came within earshot.

"Here you go, Sir, Madam." He filled the fine china cups already on the table with hot water and coffee respectively, then left the teapot and carafe along with several tea bags, cream, sugar and lemon slices.

"Thank you." Spa… von shwars… Lucian said, bowing his head just slightly enough to indicate gratitude without it being awkward for a 'servant.'

"You're welcome." The waiter bowed and left.

Lucian put the tea bag in to steep. "It's rather hard to translate between our 'languages'…" He could put quotes around something.

The waiter had come back with a tray of biscuits, cakes, those ridiculous sandwiches… "Compliments of the house, Sir." He said, putting plates in front of them.

"Very kind of you. Please, give the manager my thanks. However…" He shrugged apologetically.

The waiter looked at her and back to Lucian. "Yes, sir. Have a pleasant time." He bowed and left.

She looked around. There was no one else there, she'd been aware for a while. Dinner for those who patronized this place didn't start until 8 at the earliest… Lucian could have this place be open just for them to have tea? What message was he sending with that? She sipped her coffee.

Lucian selected a modest amount of the dainties. He liked chocolate?

Well… power, certainly. Wealth and influence. He was in New York negotiating something financial… Really, this thing was so ceremonial. So ostentatiously civilized. He knew how to read people, he knew the she would be able to interpret all the little things he was doing…

"Your father is holding up rather well, I think you'll be pleased to know." He said quietly, stirring two sugars into a cup of rather dark tea.

She took another sip of the coffee. The éclairs looked good…

"Soft shadow… enfolding dark… warm stability… cool slumber… this place still seems harsh and glaring, sometimes. So chaotic, so changing, one year's modernity another's ancient history. A line, but not a straight and narrow one, heading this direction then another, chasing its tail or going in a seemingly new direction altogether. None of the cycles, traditions overthrown… you have so little time. You are so rarely remembered. To have what you have cut shor…"

"Pass me the cream."

He handed it over. She stirred half of it in, and topped off the cup.

"You feel alike."

"We're nothing alike. Pass the sugar."

It was in her hand as soon as the word left her lips. "He did love her, you know."

"It was a marriage of convenience." One scoop with the little silver spoon.

"Why else look so long to find her?" Not falling for it. They weren't talking about her mother. Another scoop, and stir.

"They didn't find her." Making a little ringing noise.

"They found the others, the hunters he hired. He brought home her shell to be honored."

The coffee was occasionally coming over the rim of the cup. "He didn't let me look."

"It was too late the day she disappeared." He sighed.

"Because she got engaged to Gabriel. Because she wasn't a virgin. Three of them, tossed to rot in the forest." Her sister, left to die after the bastards had...

"I'm…"

She said quietly. "Did you do it. Did you organize that cult."

"No."

She finally met his gaze. "Then don't you dare say you're sorry. It's meaningless."

"It's never meaningless." He drank some of the tea. "I'm sorry. I sorrow. Thank you. I am thankful to you. Goodbye. God be with you. Language is so imprecise, compared to thought. They say it's the thought that counts, and for my kind it is, but how can anything matter if it is not known?"

"God?" She laughed.

"If 'devils' exist…" He shrugged.

"I hope God doesn't exist. Because if he does, I'd have to kill him." She was quiet now. The mini-cheesecakes were good.

"Ultimate truth… do you know, quite often," he made the point with his teacup, "the only way to tell the truth is to lie?"

"How so?" She had a pretty good idea.

"This form I take, these mannerisms… my kind take whatever form is suitable for the circumstances. You are born in bodies that have nothing to do with your selves. To express yourselves, you must hide the reality of your body with clothing and makeup, among other things. You develop little artificial rituals to tell each other, yes, I am one of you, I am not the other, I am not the enemy, when you are all people, and you are all individuals. So, to express the truth about myself, I must wear a mask, I must speak a foreign language, I must use as set of mannerisms not native to my species, to express the truth: that I am well disposed towards you."

"You know, these dried fruit things are good."

"Have you tried the fudge? Apparently it's good with coffee."

"When did you get here?"

"It works out to January 7th, the year 5 BC."

"To New York."

"Last month. Why?"

"Ah, now you're asking questions. It must be quite rare for you to not know something."

"There are a lot of things I don't know. I wanted to meet with you to find some of them out, but you've been quite good at deflecting the discussion."

"Ask away then. I want to pay for this somehow." She said with her mouth slightly full.

"You don't want to be beholden to me?"

"I hate being beholden to people, but this won't balance the scales any."

He cocked his head. His eyes… she wondered if it was deliberate. Hellspawn's eyes were ornamental, they didn't use light to see, she'd found out when she tried to toss paint on them in one of her first fights. Before she'd tracked down Redgrave. The payment had been dated April second. The rescued sacrifices had arrived the day before. She'd been so certain her sister… she was a fool.

Either she'd been misreading him, and how could she know she was? Everything he did was artificial.

But the root of artifice is art, and an artist always ends up putting in more than they know.

Was no one ever grateful to him? Well, the Redgraves, but he was right. They did have to hide it. If there were families he protected, who grew up knowing him, were they the only ones he could show a lie one shade closer to the truth?

To watch people grow old and die, always moving so people wouldn't be able to notice you never died, living in exile away from everyone who knew you, everyone who was capable of knowing you…

"It's quite all right." He smiled wryly, trying to cover up that slight tinge of sadness in his eyes.

"So, what do you want to know?"

He laughed. "Everything. But on a practical level… I'm trying to gather information about the recent level of demonic activity, there are a couple things that don't seem quite right: the Redgraves and others I know haven't noticed anything, but I think perhaps they, mostly being coordinators, and having seen the records, have access to a little too much information. I wanted to see what feel someone who knew only the basics, an 'average foot soldier,' if you will, was getting, and since you're well above average and willing to talk to me…" He shrugged.

"How recent?" She asked.

"I'm not quite sure. I first got a feeling something was slightly off while I was in Africa a few months ago…"

Really. This was rather jarring. Here she was, talking. She never talked to anyone. And he was um-huming and nodding and asking little questions that either made her notice something she would never have thought to notice or were obviously enough wrong that they made her organize her thoughts about what was right.

Here she was talking with a devil. The enemies of humanity. The beings her sister hadn't made the cut to be food too. He'd saved the world. He could have sold us out at any time. He still could. It could all be some maniacal plan. It's not paranoia… but was this one out to get her?

It was… interesting, to 'talk shop.' Demon hunters tended to get defensive of their 'territories,' fanatical about working out their own personal vengeances, resentful of anyone who told them they couldn't save them all…

She knew she couldn't. They did too. But at least she could admit to herself that she was just a woman with a few tricks, a few spells, a few blue orbs. Fight off a horde? Yeah. Right.

She tried to avoid, tried to nip in the bud, the high-profile stuff. Yet, it'd come close a few times.

And she knew she was good. Of course, all fighter pilots said they were the best too. If you weren't the best, you died. And a lot of them did. Because they were stronger, faster, even smarter in a limited way, even the cannon fodder.

It just… good triumphed a little too often, she knew, for what she knew. Barring divine intervention… perhaps it was devilish.

Perhaps it was this… man, in front of her, with the preoccupied, eccentric, old-fashioned air of quiet competence and authority.

Not hiding the fact the he could probably kill you in several thousand ways in a second, but making it so that it was dismissed before it was even thought. Not hiding his nature, his shadowed past that followed him everywhere, just showing you, telling you, in a hundred little ways, in every aspect of his crafted self, that it wasn't important to you, because you had nothing to fear.

Power shown not by feverish following of the moment, but in security: an immovable object, not an unstoppable force.

A seal, a shield, the legend said he had created with his sword.

A devil fighting to protect the peace of humanity.

Really. Truth was stranger than fiction. Speaking of which…

"So, what did you think of the movie they did of the legend?"


	3. III Samaritan

Disclaimer: Don't own DMC. Don't own the number 1 bestseller of all time, although I'm working on it.

This is Rapture pt. 3, may not make too much sense if have not read _First Impressions _and _Conservation._ The below are story notes: if not interested skip to the fic.

The Parable of the Good Samaritan, FYI, is a story told by Jesus about a man who gets robbed and left for dead on the road side, a tax collector (a good citizen, theoretically) sees him and ignores him, a Pharisee (a kind of holy man, usually depicted in the bible as actually corrupt) ignores him, the one who goes to a lot of trouble and expense to help him is a Samaritan, who is a member of an ethnic group that converted to Judaism and were considered inferior by the 'real' Jews. The moral of the story is don't be racist.

And now on to the actual fic.

- - - - - -

Some days, she really has to wonder why she even bothers. There are these people she'd heard about, Social Darwinists, who think that people should be left to survive on their own, cultures too. That if they die, they die, the weak are culled and the species is stronger for it. Or, they manage to survive and quit being weak and stupid like they would if you kept helping them out. All according to nature's plan.

Some days, she just wants to bang her head against the wall, because they're just so damn _stupid_. Of course, she tells herself, they don't know any better.

Some days she thinks they should _let_ them know better. Quit it with this whole conspiracy, nuclear raid drills and evacuation tests and escaped Zoo animals, and just let people know what's out there. Let the government spend its time on the real threats instead of bombing people trying to free their country because they've got the wrong ideology.

Those aren't the days like today, when she gets a call from a frightened kid who got grabbed by one of the enspelled flyers she put on college campuses ('Supernatural Specialist, 1000 an hour,' which was high enough to turn off the dabblers and the phone number wasn't correct unless you were full of fear) to attract kids with a trace of the right stuff on them. When she gets a frantic call from someone stammering so badly over a malfunctioning payphone she can't even get the address off him and has to use a dowsing crystal to get the place.

When she meets at the corner an ordinary kid, like you wouldn't give a second glance on a college campus. Would have run right past him if he hadn't been standing under the one working streetlight. Blood glistened like an oil slick far longer than it should. Brown hair, blue jeans… a kid whose fraternity tried a demonic ritual for kicks. Play 'Satinists,' got a high girl to play 'nekkid vergin sacrifice', although probably no higher than the rest of them… beer bottles everywhere. Some of them had tried to use them for weapons: a couple of them had had knives, one antique hunting rifle. This was a rough neighborhood, after all.

Only one of the neighbors had tried to help when they heard the screams. The screams still going on when she arrived. Fifty-something black guy, probably a WWII vet.

Thank go… whatever this was New York, the city where people walked right by a mugging. Redgrave'd told her about small towns. The kind where people didn't lock their doors, the kind where people grabbed their guns and turned out to help their neighbors. The kind doomed to poverty because all the able-bodied workers were dead.

Some guy'd said Hell was empty, and all the demons are here. Just one, thank god. Here, anyway.

One of the medium ones. Black cloak, scythe. Couldn't spot which type off the top off her head, but the Devils made new servants a lot… it wasn't immune to bullets and the whole thing could take damage, not like those annoying ones where you had to hit the head or you'd just wasted a bullet. Easy money.

The highest ranking fraternity officer left, the Under-Treasurer or something had pressed the cash box with all their dues into her hands, and the five left alive and conscious had given her all the cash they had.

Apparently it'd left the ones in a closet alone while it ate the ten it had disabled right off the bat. Ate them slowly, to prolong the fear and pain, chased another through the house... It had wanted them to listen, wanted them to hear.

They didn't leave bodies. That was an odd thing to make her lose her cool, when it was all over and she was out of earshot. No body.

On the one hand, it made clean-up easier. No traces, no way to prove it wasn't a human. But the thing was, if there was a body, they would have had something resembling a sense of closure. They could have burnt it, or dismembered it. They could have gotten some sort of vengeance. They'd be looking out behind them all their lives. They'd always be frightened of the dark, and no psychiatrist would be able to come up with an easy cure. They wouldn't even be able to tell anyone. Not without being locked up. In an enclosed space. Easy prey.

Easy prey like the bodies on the floor, the scents of blood and shit and fear so strong she was sure she could smell it like a demon could.

And that's what they'd be for the rest of their lives. Prey, who knew man wasn't the top of the food chain. Scared little mice, because they got drunk one day and decided to try something out of a book one had brought to 'investigate the supernatural' and done it wrong enough it was right.

So goddamned stupid. There were some corners you just shouldn't shine light into.

And in the end, she knew, that was really why they fought.

She had six blue orbs. She'd gotten two from Redgrave, starting out: she'd had to give them back for the next hunter when she got her own. She also had potions and things, but those required doing the finger twists to grab them for her coat, and then opening the top and drinking them. This required stopping shooting to leave her hands free. Which was not on option, indoors with no room to maneuver, or they'd be on you in a second.

She'd been down to two orbs at one point, until the Runes had managed to transform enough of the energy they gave off when injured into enough to activate one of the healing set spells she'd had ready to go.

And then, of course, it had only seemed like an instant until she'd taken it out, and the green lights of its victims' souls had clustered around her, wanting to offer her their last bits of life, and she hadn't had any place to put most of it.

Sucked to have free healing energy and have to let it go to waste.

Anyways, she was going to buy it. Long term planning for a Hunter was getting a magazine subscription. She was gonna buy it. And Redgrave'd remember her, and there'd be some record book with her training, her reports, that some day someone else who was gonna die soon would leaf through frantically, as she'd done, trying to find some vital bit of information.

She was gonna buy it. Probably doing something stupidly heroic. And no one would ever really know. She'd just be one more faceless Hunter who had hopefully been just good enough. And Hunters didn't have time for history.

And no one in the real world would have any idea.

These are the days, when she looks into the eyes of people who have seen just a little too much, that she realizes she'd okay with this. That all the lies, all the deception, all the lack of recognition is damn well worth it.

They die. They die and normal life goes on. They die and no one remembers. They die and no one knows the battles they fought, the sacrifices they made, the terrors they knew.

And this is their _triumph_.

That idiots can think they're kings of the world, that what color is in, what musician is hottest, what's going on in some little country on the other side of the world matters in the slightest.

That everyone, everywhere, doesn't have the look in their eyes that these kids (was she ever so young?) do.

Because of her, these kids are alive. And people are sleeping soundly not a block from here.

Screw it, anyways. A body'd be evidence. Proof it was real. They'll convince themselves it was a bad trip, a dream, a mass hallucination, whatever. Just a dream.

Just a nightmare.

Huh. Guess that'd make her the alarm clock.

She was still pissed though.

Of course, alarm clocks often got whacked at.

She'd just gotten back 'home' around 2: your stereotypical midnight ritual. Friday night was busy: she'd wanted to check her equipment. Fortunately, the spells on her coat kept it clean. She wished everything was that easy to get blood out of…

…aaaand ran into the welcoming committee. Fortunately she'd recognized the creep just before she fired.

Whatever happened to early to bed, early to rise, and all that shit?

Pastor Theophilus J. Flocker. Proprietor of the storefront church three places to the left of her home/office in the strip mall, on the bottom floor.

Right across from the stripper joint. Why oh why couldn't he go bother them?

In retrospect, having a pentacle (right side up, thank you) on her sign in red neon was kinda asking for it, religious idiot-wise. But she'd set up first, damnit!

"Wergild" didn't seem so cool a name now that she'd used it for her shop for a few years, but apparently it was bad luck to change it.

It was kinda weird to encounter rampant superstition among people who knew how it really worked, but on the other hand, no Atheists in foxholes.

Pretty, though. She liked the color. War and courage and all that. And you can't bleed if you're dead. Neon is basically chemicals in tubes with electric charges. What blood is, come to think of it.

And no, she wasn't paying attention. Tuning out unimportant conversations is a vital social skill, at least when she was growing up…

Bitch, please. Not witch. She'd like to believe in Wicca. She'd like to have some faith: a lot of demon hunters did have something to believe in, even Christians among them yet.

End times? Not on her watch.

Demon worshipper? Thank you, oh non-existent god, for the stupidity of thy sheep. She needed a good laugh.

Ah, the persuasive power of the sub-machinegun. Why yes, she was violent, thank you. Really, a self-proclaimed 'warrior for God', scared off by her just drawing back her coat enough to expose the holsters?

Allowed himself to be dragged off by his adoring public. She hadn't seen those two before: probably showing off his faith, facing down the local Jezebel.

Better get in, get to the phone.

No, this was not Bernie's Deli. Bernie's Deli's number was -2668. This was -2666.

…and now she wanted a BLT. Of course, after the first few times delivery boys walk in during payment negotiating sessions with mob bosses, get accosted by religious nutjobs, or get sliced at by weird things, word gets around. No one was going to deliver to this block until dawn.

Let's see. She had… mayo, half a head of lettuce… Damn, she needed to go shopping. It'd been an hour, and all she'd been doing was sitting around and wiring C4 blocks, no real calls… what were the odds somebody'd have a close encounter of the 6th kind in the 10 minutes it'd take to get there, get Bernie to slap something together for his favorite customer, and run back?

…practically certain.

Her stomach rumbled.

After she'd vaulted off the railing lining the walkway in front of the second floor shops down to street level, she did a cartwheel for the hell of it. Didn't have anything if you didn't have style. And she needed to loosen up after bending over teeny wires for over an hour.

Also, if you acted like you were nuts, they thought you were. Always good to be underestimated. Even better to be simultaneously over and underestimated. She idly did the spinney thing with a couple of her handguns as she took the shortcut through the alley.

She munched on her sandwich as she walked back. And stopped. And stared. And dropped her jaw and her sandwich… shit! That had been a good sandwich!

And did the finger twist that called out her guns and ran towards the burning strip mall. She was going to find out what idiot had been playing with matches and leave them dangling off a skyscraper! She still hadn't managed to replace all her office furniture since that two-bit sorcerer had sent demons he managed to control to steal her spell components!

People were rushing about in a panic. Screams, shouts, hysterical laughter… wait a minnit. She knew maniacal laughter when she heard it.

Well, this really took the fruitcake.

Panicked mob. She fucking hated panicking mobs. Blocking each others' escape routes, crushing people in panic, pushing others towards the blades to survive… getting in _her_ way. Unforgivable. She fired her gun in the air for attention. ...funny, she thought she hadn't loaded it with flare bullets… and her silencer must be busted.

Well, it got their attention. Silence, but for the crackling flames. And the roaring.

"Welcome to the First Annual Manhattan Marathon!" she chirped brightly. "Participants will receive the opportunity of a lifetime! Follow Broad Way towards Glen Avenue," she pointed as they stared, "For a chance at surviving the night!" She held up her gun. "On your mark, get set, go!" She fired in the air again.

_There_ they go.

Now.

"There's nowhere to run, sinners! Now that the demons have descended upon earth again, the great Babylon will be destroyed and Christ will come to judge you all as the Book of Revelations foretold! Though I have condemned my soul to hell by trafficking with fiends, I will be found worthy on Judgment day, for I have brought hell to earth in the name of god!"

What. The. _Fuck! _She stared.

Flocker continued to preach to his one remaining listener. Well, except for the demons stalking toward her. "According to God's divine plan, the Judgment Day was intended to come within the lifetime of his Son's disciples. For so it was foretold, that when Earth was shrouded in darkness and the sins of man had brought the untold torment of hell upon them, the Christ would descend upon this vale of tears, and the good would ascend to heaven and the evil would have plague upon plague visited upon them! And then, the end of days would come and all evil, even hell itself would be destroyed by the power of God! But one of the devils realized God's plan, and before it could be brought to fruition…"

She flicked the switch and threw it, taking out the demon that had stalked closest.

Boom.

"Though I walk through the alley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for I am the wickedest bitch in the alley!" She chanted. She tossed another bomb in her hand. "I'll let you finish your speech, Bastard, as they're your last freaking words!"

"See!" He shouted at the sky, wild-eyed and frothing at the mouth. "Corrupt is this world, that a woman can ape the ways of man! This infamy should never have come to pass! Forgive us, oh Lord! Forgive your children for living past your intended time of destruction! Forgive us for counting a devil as our savior against the forces of Hell, when only your son is our true, divine savior! Only he can rescue us from the darkness we are ensnared in! Let him descend upon us a second time now, as he should have 2 millennia ago, and visit upon Earth his wrath!"

BOOM.

…shit. The fire must have spread to the explosives in her office.

…shit. She needed a new office.

…shit. She wasn't going to get to have the nutcase burned at the stake.

On the plus side, at least some of the demons had been far away enough from the fire to survive. She put the other bomb away with a flick and with another twist held her semi-automatics.

She beckoned them toward her tauntingly. "Come and get me, boys."

Well, that was fun. But her smile disappeared as she dug through the rubble.

Amanda. She didn't know her last name. She didn't know any of their last names. She only knew a few of their first names. She'd only been in the strip club one time when there'd been a ruckus while she was passing, one of the patrons trying to haul off one of them without payment.

Amanda had been the one to come up, about a month or so after she'd moved in, and ask about the sign. Ask if she was a witch. She'd raised an eyebrow and asked why.

Back in the middle ages, the big beef men had about witches was they could make people barren.

It wasn't that much of a hassle to make more of the tea she used to keep her period regular. Of course, after a while, if you exercised with the fanaticism a hunter had to, you went a long time in between periods. But she couldn't afford to smell of blood on a mission.

And now Amanda wasn't going to have to worry about an unwanted child ever again.

…and _now_ the firefighters arrived. She nodded to the chief, who looked like he didn't know to give her a medal or hang her. She was tempted to say something along the lines of, we must stop meeting like this, but bit it back. No point in acting to him, he knew the score.

He'd smelt burnt human flesh and hair before.

She tossed what she could salvage in the pockets in her coat. …had to be careful, crystal ball shards all over here, and she didn't envy the clean-up crew. She should probably give the firefighters a list… bomb-making required a bunch of nasty chemicals, not to mention potion ingredients…

She yawned, looking up at the sky. Morning, already? She needed a place to crash…

She started towards this little rattrap that the guy who ran it owed her big, and

Ohshitohshitohshitandithurtandwhyhadn'tsherealizedthatwithherofficedestroyedtherewentthespellthathidwhereshewasandhowhadtheygottensocloseandithurtandshecouldn'tmoveandtheGoldenOrbsbroughtherbacktolifestilltrappedandsheonlyhad5left4leftherhandwastoodamagedtogetagun3leftcouldn'tscream2leftshedidn'twanttodielikethis1leftI'msorrySarahit'sallgoingdark…

- - - - - -

There was a hesitant knock on the door. Delores Morgan rolled over in bed and moaned, "I'll be down for breakfast in five minutes, Sadie, I promise." Then she promptly stuck her head back under the silk pillows and groaned. "It's too early to be this early…"

Another knock. "Ms. Williams?" a male voice said worriedly. "It's seven o'clock in the evening. Your gentleman friend said you wished to be roused for dinner at this hour?"

Delo… Eva Williams threw herself out of bed, doing the finger movements for her guns. Where the _hell_ was she? A… a classy hotel room? She blinked. …no guns. She looked down. No trench coat wherethefuckwashertrenchcoat! …her brain caught up with her ears. _Gentleman_ friend?

"Ms. Williams?" The …busboy? Was starting to sound a little worried about her. "Are you all right in there? You were lookin' pretty bad when he brought you in… did you rest up okay, or do you think you need a doctor, getting so exhausted?"

"Your high-class accent's slipping."

"…What?"

"Nothing." She shook her head, though he wasn't in the room to see it. "As I was unconscious when I was brought in, could you tell me who brought me in?" And who had replaced her beat-up body armor and trench coat with a decent dress.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Williams." She'd still got it. She could hear the respect to an upper-class woman kick in as he spoke. "I didn't catch his name. A foreigner? He brought you here after you exhausted yourself dancing all night at the costume party, and left money to pay for the room and your meals and a lady's maid and so on for the next week so you could rest up before going home?"

"Ah. I think I know who it was now. And the lady's maid was the one who took… changed me out of my costume?" She looked around. Stay calm.

"Yes, of course Ma'am."

"Do you still have what is left of it? It was borrowed." Her eyes lighted on a red folded square on a side table. "Ah, found it. Dinner, you said?" Rummaging for her weapons. Ah. Thank… whatever.

"Yes, room service will bring it up in half an hour if you order now, Ma'am."

"Steak. Medium rare, I'll trust the chef on the rest of the meal. But no wine, thank you. Do you know where the gentleman can be reached? I'd like to thank him." The guns seemed to not be tampered with…

"The Manager told me to tell you he left a note on the dresser, Ma'am."

"Thank you. That will be all."

"You're welcome, Ma'am." Footsteps receding down the hall.

She looked at the dresser, tapping her fingers on her gun.

She walked over and picked up the note.

Dear Ms. Williams, or Eva, as you prefer,

My apologies for observing you unawares, but as I said in our conversation over tea, I find myself in need of information about the patterns of demonic attacks and hunter methods of response, and awareness of observation affects what is observed.

I hope that what small amount of assistance I provided lessens your justified ill feelings at the rudeness of 'spying on' you. However, as it is more likely my inaction than my actions that have offended you, I can offer no excuse for my not acting to assist in saving other lives, save that which came up again during our discussion on the movie you so enjoyed.

Despite my realization that human lives have meaning, I still find the lives of the whole that might be saved by this information more valuable than the few. You find that callous of me, but as I said before I would rather a few innocents die than those valuable to mankind as a whole.

Although… I do admit that there is a difference of feeling between moral contemplations and actually seeing the demise of innocents, as it seems you do daily, risking your life to prevent. I found this… most illuminating.

I extend my thanks, and before you say, 'for what?' or something along those lines, as you did nothing you would not normally do, that is what I wish to thank you for, on behalf of those who do not know to thank you.

Sincerely, Sir von Schwärzung, or Lucian, if we are still on a first name basis.

- - - - - -

The tax collector is the club treasurer, the Pharisee the Preacher, the Samaritan Sparda.

The 'victim' is humanity.

The listener is you the reader.

And that makes Eva, our narrator…

Isn't heresy fun?

Also: "What you have done for the least of these, this you have done for me."

And, by Alexander Pope: "Who sees with equal eye, as God of all/A hero perish or a sparrow fall."

Also, Sparda… helped out just a _little_ during the first 2 incidents. Watch for what Eva think is unusual.

And that's all the fic spoilers I'm going to do.


	4. IV Seasonal

Disclaimer: If I owned Devil May Cry, they would translate the backstory. Nor do I own The Byrds' song "Turn, Turn, Turn."

DMCDMCDMCDMCDMCDMCDMCDMCDMCDMCDMCDMCDMCDMCDMCDMCDMCDMCDMCDMCDMCDMCDMCDMCDMC

Eva hummed to herself as she set up the new neon sign for her new shop. If you could really call it a shop, out here in the middle of the deserted ghetto. It was practically impossible to find anyone crazy enough to rent to her, but she'd used her connections to find someone _really _desperate.

A slum lord who'd been losing money for ages had had his last place moved into by a tough bunch of thugs he hadn't been able to kick out. Dealing and taking advantage of the new generation of hipsters, the ones the old-timers called hippies out of contempt. Coming out here looking for peace and a high, getting eternal peace or just held up. Kids these days…

In a flash, she had a gun out and pointed behind her, firing a warning shot at the idiot trying to sneak around another of the decaying old brownstones. "Make like a tree and leave or you'll be leaving this life! This is my roost now!"

She heard a knife clatter to the ground as the idiot who'd thought he could take her fled. Kids these days. Thinking he could off a Hunter and get his rocks off? Laughable. Just because she was a woman… male chauvinist pigs. One of these days, someone'd off him. Not today, it seemed.

What was the city coming to, that a slum lord couldn't get the muscle to run off idiots like that? Whole world going soft… She finished adjusting the sign and sauntered over. Cheap knife. She pocketed it. Every little bit helps…

The shop was about set up, though. She'd had to do a few repairs to the masonry, but it should hold up until it blew up.

She heard someone else picking their way through the rubble, and acted natural. Another hunter or a gangster? Most people would be slipping as the stones slid under them. She picked up one of the stones she'd been using to mark the borders and tossed it idly as she inspected her new herb garden. Time to show off…

She tossed the rock, hearing it ricochet of the smoothest wall left and land a few feet away from the visitor. She whirled around, pointing her guns at them with the safeties on.

A fraction of a second later, the safeties clicked off. "You."

Okay. She'd sewn different spells into her trenchcoat, she'd repaired the guns after the bullets had been hit into them, she had weapons out this time, she'd managed to replace 4 yellow orbs, if she got the herb bed between them that should at least slow him down, and she could maybe tear them out of the ground and toss them at him… but she was still screwed if he wanted to start something and why was he carrying a plant?

"Good morning, Ms. Williams." He bowed gracefully.

She holstered her guns. Not putting them back in the space time pockets in her trenchcoat, not when he could probably just do whatever he'd done to lock them again. "You might as well just start calling me Eva. I'd say saving my life twice puts us on a first-name basis."

He laughed. "Indeed. In any case, Eva, I thought a house-warming gift was in order." He indicated the plant.

"Thank you. Just a sec." She reached into a pocket (at least this one still worked), pulled out a bill roll, and started peeling off twenties. "Here you go." She held out a stack to him, putting the rest back in her pocket.

He shook his head. "I couldn't possibly. I understand that you would not want to be indebted to me, but that is more than the hotel and the tea combined."

He'd counted? She'd flipped through those bills damn fast… stupid. A. incredibly powerful inhuman, B. he owned a bank. Of course he was able to count them.

She rolled her eyes. "Look. It's not that I don't want to owe you because you're a devil. I owe you my life, hell, the whole human race owes you, and a few hundred isn't going to balance the books. But I pay my own way." She shook the money. "You take the greenbacks, I'll take the mandrake, okay?" A demon, giving a hunter a plant used in exorcisms and wards.

She'd say, what is the world coming to? But he'd been doing this for two thousand years. Even though he was very different than the character in the movie she'd gone to see with her friends on her birthday, and kept coming back to the theatre whenever she could while it was being shown…

He bowed. "As you wish… Eva." Still that hesitance about using her name. But, then, how many hunters would be willing to be on a first name basis with any devil, even this one?

Oh come on. She told herself. He's had a hundred chances to kill you. Instead, he saves you and gives you things.

She walked forward, took the plant, and backed up a little. See? Still got all your arms and legs. And now you've got a mandrake plant.

Which crashed to the ground a second later as she grabbed her guns and they both took off running at the roar.

A Phantom. She fucking hated Phantoms. For one thing, who came up with the name? They were damn big, damn solid very visible things. Made out of goddamn lava. Didn't the word phantom imply see through and not solid?

They also melted the buildings around them (hell to cover up), and even with the protection spells on her trenchcoat she was sweating like a pig. Good thing the blue orb's healing replaced the water, or she'd dye of dehydration. What a way to go.

Shit. That building was the one piece of new construction in the area, they were still building it, and it had just crashed to the ground. Nice pick of a thing to hide behind while spellcasting, Eva. She took off running again, one hand firing the sub-machine gun behind her, the other doing the finger movements to keep the spell from being cancelled even though she'd been interrupted in the middle. She rolled behind the stub of a knocked-over wall and resumed the spell as Sparda distracted it.

Man, the guy could fight. She'd been impressed the first time she'd seen him, but hunters didn't do melee, so she didn't have much experience to judge by. She'd though he was an amateur with a few tricks.

The long Japanese sword was flashing red-orange with reflected light from the demon, blurring in the air as he thrusted and slashed faster than she could make out, jumping to dodge a claw and landing on top of it, attacking the tail, as she finished the spell and threw the supercharged C4 block into its mouth, using the confusion of the blast and a smoke grenade she'd thrown with it to run forward and toss a few land mines in the area around it, before running away again and starting another spell. Sparda'd jumped out of the way. Good.

Normally, the damn thing could stick its head in the ground and call the dead as pillars of hellfire, so you had to keep dodging while spellcasting, but Sparda was keeping it too busy to do that. Normally, killing a Phantom, one of hell's lieutenants, took forever if you were good enough to kill it at all, but with the two of them, she thought this would wrap up in another few minutes.

It was roaring at Sparda as he leapt 40 feet into the air and kept himself up with magic and the recoil from those guns. Man, she'd kill for guns like those… Probably something along the lines of traitor, she could read their language and understand it a little, but the thing was roaring so much it was hard to make out. In pain.

She grinned, tossed the enhanced explosive and smoke grenade combo again, and rushed forward, sowing the ground with the land mines again. It stepped on a few as it tried to rush after her, before Sparda placed himself between them and blocked its advance, making it back up and step on more as it tried to retreat.

What the hell was going on? Why would a Phantom show up in broad daylight? Don't think about it now, get distracted and mess up the finger patterns and you'll have to do the whole damn spell all over again.

Why did he fight with a katana and guns? Those were normal weapons, human weapons. She'd have expected, she didn't know, something glowy with spikes or something. A broadsword, maybe… idiot, he used his sword to seal the portal between the worlds. Or… that's what the legend said, but how much of the legend was fact?

She ran forward to toss them at it, and shit. It was waiting for it, hit them back at her with its tail. She dived for cover, then heard the bang. She poked her head up out of the low ditch and Sparda saluted, sheathing his katana and using the guns again. He'd hit them back at it with the katana? That fast?

Stupid girl. This was the legendary dark knight Sparda, after all. She ran for new cover as shots rang out, already beginning the new spell.

Maybe he used human weapons so hunters wouldn't be able to spot right away he was a devil? She hadn't known until she'd see his shadow…

Careful, don't trip on any of the flaming rubble. You'd probably survive, with him here, but you'd still look like an idiot.

And she almost tripped on a couple of crying kids, teens, really, crouched in what was left of a stairwell. … shit. If the Phantom knew they were here, it'd come over to eat their souls, and they'd get fried to a crisp no matter what she did. Unless…

You can't take the heat, get out of hell's kitchen. She tossed her trenchcoat over them. "Run. Fast!" They cowered. Stupid sheep… "Keep the trenchcoat on you and run!" She pointed her gun at them.

It was really amazing, she thought as they scrambled away, arms wrapped around each other, how people would just stop and stare at something really dangerous but run away from a little bitty thing like a gun used as a token threat.

Don't think, just do. Where were the cooling spell components… thank god for belt pouches. Those kids had just walked off with half her armory.

There we go. She activated it and ran back to the battle. Sparda raised an eyebrow as she waved her arms at him instead of throwing things. She hoped he knew the hunter signs for civilians running.

He started herding it in the opposite direction as she ran for cover again.

…ow. A brick fell on her head. Damn thing, jumping all over the place like an earthquake. How much did it weigh? …and she hadn't got injured yet this battle. She'd still have all her orbs full if it weren't for the heat. Who knew? …and shit, she only had one more vial…

And the roaring reached a crescendo and stopped. She looked up to see Sparda sheathing his Katana again, beside a pool of lava, quickly cooling.

But not quickly enough. She fanned herself as she walked over. The battle was over, the enemy had fallen, no point in wasting a spell.

The souls of the demon's victims hovered over the pool, clutching the last fragments of their life force and yielding it to her as she stood at the edge. Sparda hadn't taken it? But then, she hadn't seen him get hit once.

She looked at the red orbs in the pool of lava and sighed. Have to wait until it cooled and then chip the damn things out… but Sparda picked them up, brushed the lava off, and handed them to her when they cooled.

She nodded thanks. "Thanks for helping out." And wasn't that the obvious statement of the year? Those kids would definitely be dead by now if he hadn't been here, and a bunch more people.

He looked at her for a moment. "You're welcome." Probably not used to getting thanks from hunters, either. She grinned, and started to say something along the lines of welcome to what? When she came down from the combat high and the whimpering, crying and screaming came to her attention.

As she tore up bandages from the pockets in the trenchcoat she'd gotten back and dispensed burn ointment and sew up a few wounds, he looked for survivors, pulling them out of the rubble and bringing them over to her. The thermos of tea got passed around, and when it started to get dark he threw one of his guns up into the air, and it turned into a hawk that glowed with a fair approximation of sunlight. So that was what had illuminated the boy under the streetlight that night. And she'd been right, that wasn't a flare bullet. She remembered when she'd looked at his guns the first time they'd met. Luce and Umbra, huh? Light and darkness. Probably some meaning to it, but she'd figure it out when this was over.

There'd been a party going on, in a basement with squatters. They were wearing high heels, dolled-up girls now clutching broken bones, mourning the ones with their heads crushed open, or that they'd never walk again.

Yellow Orbs. She almost wanted to bring them back to life. But they they'd be tainted, evil and psychopathic and insane without the proper preparations, and there was never enough healing energy. Her blue orbs wouldn't fix all of this, and then what would happen the next time? More and more hunters were being attacked, she'd heard on the grapevine… damnit, she'd thought a deserted place like this would be, well, deserted! But she had to stay near the city, to get where she was needed quick enough, even on a street-illegal motorcycle.

There was a war on, a much bigger one than the one half the world away, one all over the world.

But what else was new? She hummed cheerfully as she worked. Give the illusion of normalcy. Like Sparda's tea… the world was made up, for most people, of thousands of little rituals. Work got you out of bed, you stopped for lunch at the same few places, ordered the same few things, read the paper and ate bread and jam and got the kids to school and scrubbed the floor but a lot of the floors were melted through… and what was Sparda carrying, wrapped in his coat?

Oh. No. Oh no.

And she shouldn't have snatched the baby away from him, she didn't want to him to think she hated him, but… the baby was covered in blood, and crying angrily. It couldn't be more than a few hours old, if that, where was… his, mother?

Sparda shook his head sadly.

Eva gave it to the girls, hopefully looking after it would give them something to do, and when she looked at them again it seemed to work.

When she had time to look at them again.

The firefighters arrived, and put out the last of the blazes, and the blankets she and Sparda had salvaged were replaced with more, cleaner ones, and they left to avoid the reporters as medical people arrived a few minutes later.

She looked at what was left of her shop, ash floating down gently on it, and sighed. At least she hadn't moved in the explosives and breakables yet, and her bike was safe in the garage.

Sparda silently helped her move the rubble out of the way as she collected what was left of her belongings. Finally she went over to the herb garden, to harvest everything that was left, and while she was picking through it he came up to her again.

He held the mandrake out to her when she turned around. "I think it will be fine when it is repotted."

Small consolation, right now. "It's fine. I kept telling them it would be fine, they would be fine. But… that one's gone, but hell is full of the damned things: there's no guarantee they won't be back tomorrow, or the next day…"

"I am sorry." Sparda bowed his head.

"Not your fault. Actually, kinda the opposite." She smiled wryly at the poor excuse for a joke. It was getting darker and darker, and probably colder as it was still winter, but she didn't feel it with her trenchcoat wrapped around her.

But they had been shivering. She hugged her arms to herself.

"But even so… it is a horrible way for our worlds to be." He shook his head sadly.

She shrugged. "The way it is."

"But it should not be that way. And do not tell me of hopeless causes." A smile.

She snorted. "I'm not that stupid. But you can take on armies. Us?" She shrugged. "I'd still be fighting or dead, right now, if you weren't here. Thank you."

"No need." He shook his head.

"I'm still thankful." She laughed, just a little, then sobered up, looking away. "Thank you."

"You were a help as well. Consider any debt you feel you owe paid." He shrugged, clearly uncomfortable.

She couldn't hurt him, but she could make him uncomfortable when she _didn't_ want to. Murphy's enforcers were in tip-top form today. She laughed again, just for a second. "I wasn't much of a help. You were saving me, not me you. Not used to that."

Sparda stayed silent.

"I suppose I could call it even if I saved your life, like with other hunters a few times, but anything that could scratch you would chew me up and spit me out. And you've saved the human race Go… goodness only knows how many times. And you're this uncomfortable with me thanking you, even?" She turned to look at him. "We haven't repaid you. I doubt we could ever repay you, and it looks like we aren't even trying. I mean, don't you miss your home? You're here," she waves her arms, indicating the whole Realm of Light, "and you're family's back there, everything and everyone you know is back there. You've been here for two thousand years. Don't you ever get lonely?"

"I have had human friends…" he started to say.

"But how many of them have been willing to call you friend? To even thank you? To acknowledge that they owe you, even though you're a demon. Sure," she waved again, "there's the legend. You have thousands of people all over the world who know who you are, at least in theory. Know the legend, read the books, seen the movie, but what about the ones who know who you are? Know who Sir Lucian Thaddeus von Schwärzung really is? How many of them don't look at you with fear, with loathing for what you are? Even me!" She pointed at herself. "Even I… I'm trying to get along you, I owe you and you seem like a really nice guy and you've had tons of chances to kill me and you haven't, but I still point my guns at you! How can you stand us!"

"There have been, and are, those who call me friend, who thank me. But you are correct, even they fear and hate. Because they, like you, have learned fear, learned hate, because of what my kind have done. Not all of us are like Mundus: more than I have helped you, but you know not of them. Because to you, we have been the terrors in the night." He shrugged. "It is understandable."

"Not the way it should be." She muttered. "And don't tell me it can be changed. People are all talking about changing the world now, but it's not going to change. I'm not you, I can't fight armies, I certainly can't fight the prejudices of the whole world. There's nothing I can do to repay you."

He shrugged. "I don't care."

She stared at him. "How can you not? We save us, and we treat you like dirt, like worse than dirt."

He shrugged again. "If I cared even what my own kind thought of me, I would probably be ruling a good portion of Africa, or possibly Australia, now."

She nodded, smiling wryly. "Good point." Really, what had she been thinking? Trying to talk him out of saving her, saving humanity? She should get her head checked. Maybe the heat had gotten to her, or something.

Sparda watched her stare unseeingly at the ruins for a while, before speaking up. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah?" she said tiredly.

"Do you have a place to spend the night?" He was clearly worried about offending her with the question. It was sort of funny, sort of sad, sort of sweet. She smiled.

"You can put me up at a hotel again if you want. I mean, for all we know, that thing might have been after you instead of me. But I'm going to pay you back. I'm only asking you," she pointed at him for emphasis, "because you're a damn sight more likely than me to be able to get a decent hotel room on no notice. What time is it?"

He looked to the right. "Almost dawn." There was already a slight lightening of the sky.

She stared at it. "Shit. I've been up for only 36 hours. I shouldn't be this loopy."

Sparda wisely stayed quiet.

"Do you have any tea left?" She stuck her hand out in his direction.

He nodded, taking out the thermos. "It's enchanted."

"I thought so." She said, turning to him to take it.


	5. IVb Gentleman

Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry. You can tell by the way this is fanfiction and not an anime series.

A/N: My, I'm just refusing to let Rapture die, aren't I? This is a side chapter, it's IVb, that's four b if you don't know roman numerals. That means it takes place between Seasonal, where she sort of moves in with him, and Elementary, when they realize they're in love. I'll move it into the proper place in order eventually.

I'm also doing more drabbles, so if anyone wants to request anything, like with Centuries I will probably do it eventually. If it's a good enough idea, I might even do another side-fic like this one.

In this one, I'm going to try to illustrate more of the falling-in-love process. How they interact and why they become interested in each other.

As usual, please review. I've been really disappointed by the fact I'm getting so few reviews for this. Even if you feel you don't have anything to say, even a 'good job' means a lot to a writer. Thank you.

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Eva paused in unpacking. Why was she putting everything into drawers and closets all neatly? It wasn't like she would be staying long. Just until she saved up for a new shop. Or Sparda decided he didn't want to be imposed on any longer and indicated she had better leave.

Really, she didn't know why he was letting her sort of/almost stay with him. The hotel he was staying at had miraculously had an empty grand suite next to his. She would have been perfectly happy with an ordinary room, the sort with a bed and a dresser and a bathroom and no room for anything else.

And really, it would be better to keep everything in the bags she had stuffed those of her belongings that had survived the Phantom's attack and she hadn't wanted to put in storage into. The maids probably wouldn't peek in there. The guns and so on would definitely attract attention.

The hotel detective was in the pay of the mob and allowed illicit gambling to go on under his nose. She didn't have to worry about him, but some light fingered cleaner… No, this was a respectable establishment. The kind of place without roaches. The sort of place someone like Sparda pretended to be stayed at.

The sort of place someone like Ritter (German for Sir) Lucian Thaddeus von Schwärzung stayed at. The sort of place someone like Dolores Morgan stayed at, with proper chaperonage of course. Not the sort of dive Eva Williams stayed at.

It was improper to leave things in bags. Especially messy bags that didn't even qualify as luggage. She should at least pretend to be somewhat proper, for the sake of his reputation. Even if people would probably assume they were sleeping together.

Servants gossiped, and she discovered she still actually cared if they gossiped about her. About unpacking, for goodness' sake. She shook her head and stopped.

It was the early afternoon. Too late to go to sleep, too early to go on the mission she'd already had lined up for tonight. She'd already checked over her equipment.

She decided to go bug Sparda.

If they were going to be living in close proximity for any amount of time, it was vital to find out exactly how much she could bug him. She bugged people. Sparda was all polite and restrained (he'd had who knew how many millennia of practice at not killing annoying people), but it would be a bad thing, a very bad thing for him to kill her.

Well, that was obvious. He'd saved her life a few times, he probably wouldn't want to waste the effort, but he was a demon after all.

That still smarted, needing to be saved. Damsel in distress and knight. All that stereotypical helpless female nonsense. Sheesh.

She looked thoughtfully at the connecting door between their suites and decided to barge in without knocking. "Hello?" she called out, entering the big sitting room.

"Here, Ms. Williams." He gracefully raised his hand, sitting in an armchair with a book.

The scabbard of his big sword was leaning against the side of the chair, and she could see the holsters for his twin handguns were still at his sides. "People don't comment about you carrying around weapons all the time? You had them at the tea, too." She threw herself down into a chair facing his. Comfy.

"I am considered eccentric, but harmless. If I were less wealthy, it would perhaps be commented on, but not in these circles. As it is, it is unusual for me to be armed myself instead of having armed bodyguards, but no more." He shrugged.

She'd used to be frightened of her father's bodyguards and their guns. How different things were now. "You, harmless." She snorted. However, here she was, up close and she didn't really feel too threatened. He would have just let her die if he wanted her dead. She squinted. "Is that a… a golden skull?" It was horned and had a sapphire on the forehead. It was sitting right at the bottom of the lace thing on his chest, she couldn't remember the name of the article of clothing.

"A broach in the shape of one, yes. Something else few people notice. Like the shadow." He smiled. "It was a gift."

"Noticed the shadow." She'd still been in battle mode at the time, the state where you noticed everything because you had to notice everything to survive. "Didn't see the skull."

"It was dark at the time. I'm amazed you noticed the shadow. The flickering torches should have scrambled it enough… I was hoping to avoid a fight with you."

"Well, we can't call what we had a _fight_. It would have been a slaughter." Helpless. Not even able to reach her weapons.

"It could have been a slaughter of innocents, if you had not been careful with your weapons. It was good of you to get them away first."

"Well." Eva shrugged. "Didn't want you to hide behind them."

Sparda looked amused.

"Well, I didn't know you then." Did she know him now? "What are you reading?"

"Dante's _The Divine Comedy. _A favorite." He held out a well-thumbed leather bound copy.

"Is it accurate?"

"Not at all. Not that it was meant to be. It is more a tale of a personal journey than a metaphysical one." He closed the book. "Is there a reason you came here?"

"Not much of a reason. But then, it wasn't much of a walk. I'm right next door, you know. It wasn't even locked." Though she would take care to lock it from her side. "Aren't you worried I'll rig your bed to explode while you're asleep?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Ms. Williams, I am a living legend. I have not stayed that way by being _that_ easy to kill. Have no fear on my account. Nor on yours. I swore a long time ago not to kill humans."

She raised an eyebrow. "What? Not one in two thousand years?"

"Well, sorcerers who have become part-demon do not count."

"I'd agree with you there." She wanted to spit in contempt.

The room was paneled in oak and upholstered in rich red fabric. He look at home here. He looked at home with a book in his hand. He was all elegance and refinement and made her feel utterly inadequate. Women were supposed to be the beautiful, civilized ones.

Which was a sexist stereotype, but no one raised in a society could be perfectly uncontaminated by its views. And since there _was_ a double standard, she wanted to exploit it. "Are you just looking after me because I'm a woman."

He raised an eyebrow. "Hardly."

"Why are you, then?"

"Come now, you are a Hunter. You must know that demons find weakness… disgusting is the appropriate word, I think. Might makes right: it is our law. However, we have minds and free will just as you do. One can choose, as I have, to tolerate weakness. Protect humanity when our ways say you _should_ be conquered. However, there is a difference between tolerance and embracing something. If you were the weak creature you imply I think you are, I would have aided you then, but I would hardly spend unnecessary time with you." True, she could tell. But utterly cold-blooded. Underneath the civilized exterior, under the kindness, he was still a demon. She had to remember that.

"I _am_ weak. I have been utterly helpless on several occasions around you. Not something I make a habit of." She frowned at the memory.

"True, by my standards you are weak. But then, by my standards," a private smile, "most _demons_ are weak, let alone humans. I have seen you fight. You would have most likely defeated that Phantom even if I had not been there."

She shrugged. "One screw up, and I would have been dead."

"I doubt you would have made a mistake of that nature." He nodded in respect. "You are, forgive me, a human woman. The physically weaker gender of a weak species. Yet, despite that, you have gained strength through your own efforts, as other Hunters have. I find that admirable. Worth my time to foster."

"So you want to have strong people, people you can tolerate, around you as an antidote to having to make yourself not kill so many idiots."

"Hmm, I would not put it that way. Although I hope you will be a diverting companion." A smile. "Have you read _The Divine Comedy_?"

She certainly wasn't going to say "In the original, I had tutors." But then, he already knew who her family was. She tried to keep people from finding out. Hostages were a bad thing. "Yes."

"What did you think of it?"

"To be honest, I liked the pulp magazine stories better, when I could get them. Especially the science fiction and mysteries. I only liked the _Comedy_ for the descriptions of demons. Remember I said I was a fangirl of that movie about you?" She grinned, then sobered. "Of course, that was before I knew about real demons." Looking around, she added, "I'm suddenly thirsty. Is there anything to drink? Besides tea. You always have tea."

"There is a pitcher of water over there." He gestured.

Eva stood up. "You're not going to offer to fetch it for me? That would be the gentlemanly thing to do." She walked over and poured herself a glass, drinking it down in one shot and filling it up again.

Sparda looked amused. "I would not want you to call me a sexist pig."

"Male chauvinist pig is what I would say," she corrected him, coming back with the glass.

"I am certainly not a pig, although I could assume the shape of one as easily as a human. And male? I am an entirely different species. It amuses me that most stories about other worlds picture the inhabitants as almost perfect replicas of humans, or humans in strange costumes."

"That's right, demons are nothing like humans." She took a sip of the water. "What was it like there? Do you miss it? Do you have parents? A family?"

"Parents, yes." He nodded. "You justify my opinion of you."

"Huh?"

"It is amazing how few in two thousand years have asked questions like that. You are a most uncommon human. You draw strength from your hate yet are able to rise above it."

She shrugged. "Don't give me too much credit." She looked at her watch. "Damn, I need to go. Ferino, he's one of my agents, found me a job. I need to earn a ton of money for another shop, although I've got him looking for one too."

"It would be easier to save up if you did not insist on paying for your accommodations," he pointed out.

"That's not negotiable." She shook her head.

"As you will, then." He opened up his book to the page he had been at before.

She felt like she had been dismissed from the presence of a king. He just had that aura, that made people respect him. Revere him. So she wanted to say something snappy to indicate that she would leave when she damn well felt like it. "See you for breakfast?"

"I have a meeting at 10am. Any time before 9 would be fine." He looked interested.

"See you at 7, then. Nine is bedtime." She made a show of checking her gun in its holster. "See you." _Now_ she left.

Ferino was a young punk, but he kept his nose to the ground. Often brought her jobs first, for a fee from the client.

This time it was something in a fish warehouse. There had been weird noises for weeks, catches had turned out to not be as big as they had been when they were put there, and finally a worker had disappeared and his bones had turned up buried inside a pile of ice.

She'd turned on the floodlights first thing when she got there. Then something had started taking out the ones on the opposite side of the warehouse from her. She'd headed that way, but it must have gone by on the other side.

The ones where she had been went dark. She could hear the glass shattering. Some sort of ranged attack.

She pulled out flares from her coat and started dropping them behind her. Her contact lenses had night vision spells built in, but it would be nice if it snuffed out the flares. That would give her a way to track where it was.

Sure enough, she saw one behind her go out.

The fizzing of the flares blocked out the sound of footsteps. That included hers. Her coat's enchantments would block her scent.

All she had to do was stay calm so it wouldn't sense any fear. Piece of cake.

She was stalking something through a huge, echoing warehouse. Sometimes she heard soft sounds over the fizzing. Sounds like… fish sliding against each other all at once. .

Coming closer.

It was jumping from the top of one pile of fish to another. Clever. But then, they were all sentient. Almost as smart as humans. Some were smarter.

The last thump had been three piles ahead of her, and one to the right.

Gotcha.

She tossed the grenades.

She heard a pained sound like nothing on earth, a cross between a soprano scream and a howl as she quickly pulled herself up on top of one of the piles.

It looked sort of like a wolf. Only made out of blued steel.

She tossed the other grenade. It snapped it out of the air.

Big mistake.

Her guns quickly finished it off. Piece of cake.

The air was filled with wet sliding sounds as the piles of fish, destabilized by the explosions, spilled down onto the floor.

And then another sound.

Clapping.

She whirled, her guns pointing almost straight up.

Then she holstered them again. "Sparda. I thought I told you not to follow me."

"Actually," he spoke from the rafters. "You said no such thing."

"I didn't?" She hadn't. "Well, I'm saying it now."

"I did say part of my mission here was to observe a human hunter in combat." He lightly jumped down what was easily twenty feet to the roof of an overseer's hut inside the main building.

"I'm not giving away trade secrets, ally or not." She was ticked. "I'm grateful for the rescue that time but I wasn't in any danger."

"No, not from something like that," he agreed.

"So scram." She pointed. "I don't want _you_ getting paid for this."

"No, it was all your work."

She spat. It landed on one of the fish. "You're a _man_."

"Seemingly. I will go." He vanished into thin air. So he was one of the ones that could teleport. Good to know.

Why was it good to know? Did she really want to know yet _another_ reason she was screwed if she tried to fight him? She shrugged and made her way through the fish.

The pay should last her about twenty days. Damn, but she needed to buy more ammo soon… she would have to save up for that before she could for the shop.

It was always one thing after another. A hunter was always running out of _something_. Good thing she'd just bought more grenades but they hadn't been delivered to her shop. Now, that explosion might have taken out the Phantom.

He'd been sitting up there in the shadows the whole time. Looking all pretty and pristine and with weapons far superior to hers. He could have killed it in a second.

He'd let her kill it. He hadn't stepped in to rescue her.

She felt oddly flattered that he had bothered watching. Though it was creepy. Seriously creepy, she had a devil stalker, and she was living right next to the guy. Locks were useless if he could teleport.

He'd probably just been bored with the book.

Thing was, she could run, but where could she run to that he couldn't track her down? No point in being afraid, she was screwed if he wanted to do anything. Being scared wouldn't make things any better. It might make things worse. She'd make herself look weak by being scared, and that would lose her that strange respect he seemed to have for her.

Besides, legend or no legend she didn't want to back down. She'd lose face.

He was a puzzle, too. She never could resist puzzles. Exactly _why_ had he decided to help humanity? He had apparently been very high ranking in Mundus' forces, he would have been in for a cut of the pie, right?

He'd had status, probably wealth in whatever form devils prized: red orbs, right, he was strong and they worshipped strength.

Probably had demonic fangirls way before the movie came out.

And he gave all that up.

What did he get?

Well, he clearly had prettymuch everything humans valued. Money, lands, title, he was a hero. Not that he could come out and _say _he was a hero. He'd either be laughed at or people like her would try to kill him.

She headed back to the hotel after she got paid. When she was in an alley away from people who would think she was nuts, she called out, "Hello? You there?"

No answer.

Either he was hiding and watching her, or he'd done what she'd wanted him to and gone away.

He was an honorable devil, so she was pretty certain it was the latter.

She felt oddly disappointed.

Now she thought about it, it was oddly flattering, to have the greatest champion of humanity cheering her on.

She needed to go tell people where she was staying so they could find her if they had jobs.

But she wanted to go back to the hotel and annoy the hell out of him some more.


	6. V Elementary

Disclaimer: If I owned Devil May Cry, Eva resurrecting Dante instead of being a helpless victim would still be definite canon. Curse you, Tanaka, for ignoring previous canon!

This chapter is based around the 'traditional' Western five elements, Earth, Air, Fire, Water, and Spirit. In that order. Think about a tarot deck, though I'm not matching all the individual cards. But what the suits represent, and the significators.

DMCDMCDMCDMCDMCDMCDMCDMC

"They probably think I'm a loose woman." Eva laughed, and took a sip of her coffee in the hotel's lavish dining room. "Which is more accurate than they know."

Sparda smiled, drinking his tea with the evening paper spread open. "Quite right. Tongues are wagging. And you're quite right, you could be said to be one in a metaphorical sense. In the period of this costume," he gestured to himself, "an unfettered woman, much less a working one, was considered illicit at best."

"'My clients pay me, and I use my body for them for a night.'" Eva laughed again, then put down the empty coffee cup and started expertly carving up her beef Wellington. "I've told nosy people that to get them to quit asking me what my job is. None of their business."

Sparda nodded, looking at the stock quotes. "It has been rather amusing. I seem to be more approachable now that they think I'm having an affair."

"Makes you more human?" Eva laughed again. "Less of a saint and more concerned with earthly things? You seem to be at the top of the business world. License to print money, from what I hear."

Sparda shook his head. "No, the days in which banks made their own currencies are long over. It's amazing, how quickly the world went from regarding a steam engine as something only fit for a child's toy to outdated machinery." From machines being useless to demanding more and more advanced ones. "And how coins are being replaced with bills. The United States' move to go off the gold standard… but then, that's hardly your field. Forgive me for boring you."

She waved dismissively while she finished chewing. "No, go on. You're always fascinating to talk to. Child's toy?"

"The Romans understood the principles of the steam engine, but regarded them as useless. The people making the decisions weren't the ones doing the work, and, well." Sparda shrugged. "Harvesting grain, weaving cloth, hazardous mining operations… those were what slaves were for."

"Yeah, they enslaved prisoners of war, didn't they."

Sparda nodded approvingly. "Yes, it was quite different from the more modern, racially-based slavery. Slaves could be Roman, Celtic, Jewish, African… no difference. But still a cruel institution, at its roots. And one I highly disapprove of. Some buildings back then were practically mortared with blood." Contempt.

"Was…" Eva looked for a word. She couldn't say Mundus here, people around them were straining their ears to eavesdrop on them. They much look a sight. Regular crazies dressed up in impractical clothing, and eccentric old nobleman, rich as Midas, and one of those feminists. Probably an earth-mother worshipping Communist, like they all were. The thought made her grin despite the topic of the conversation. "Was the crazy Emperor… not Nero, the other one, behind a lot of that?"

"There were quite a few insane Roman Emperors, Caligula's descendants." A look of approval. He understood what she meant. "I'm sure you know Nero's name meant black, and he certainly was black-hearted… but his worst excesses were exceeded by one of those who preceded him, the one who wanted to conquer all of Earth."

She bet. She didn't want to know what it was like to be ruled by demons. "Good thing he was deposed."

Sparda nodded. She knew he meant 'you're welcome,' though the onlookers would think it was a simple agreement.

Really, this deal of theirs was working out rather well. She got someplace to stay that wasn't attacked by demons (no one would dare), a comfortable bed, good food, reliable hot water… all the material comforts of the good life. And people thinking she had a 'Sugar Daddy' was actually cutting down on the amount of idiots who thought flashing a little dough would get her in their bed.

Well, she was high-maintenance, with high-standards. No problem with truth in advertising. Although the deception was the best part.

She insisted on covering her bills, even though he'd offered.

And he was handsome enough it was believable. Most of his colleagues considered him a dyed-in-the wool bachelor, practically a monk. His appearance (silver hair, indeterminate age), allowed him to go a long time between switching identities, but people would be suspicious of someone who records showed had been around for two hundred years.

She'd never thought of that. All the little details he must have to manage to live as an immortal. Birth certificates, funerals… she didn't have any papers.

Didn't want the enemies she'd made to track down her roots.

She didn't want any more misfortune to befall her family.

The conversation took on a lighter note, and they exchanged barbs. Really, he was incredibly witty, especially for a banker. Who would have thought. She finished up her meal quickly, took her napkin off her lap and put the knife in the correct position to signal she was through.

"Leaving so soon?" he asked, a little disappointed, but then she was too. She really did like talking to him.

"Duty calls," she replied, smiling. "Want to get together for breakfast?"

"That sounds wonderful, Eva. The usual place?"

"And as usual, we go Dutch," she agreed, and stood.

He stood as well. "I have a meeting later, same sort of thing, I'm afraid."

More demonic activity? Man, more and more bad news this week… staying with him, she was one of the few people not getting attacked.

Some hunters had been about to say maybe it was him, but Redgrave'd pointed out it was happening all over the world. _What_ was going on?

Something massive enough to get people all over the world talking to each other. And to him. A meeting… was he helping out another hunter?

"It never ends, does it?" She sighed.

He shrugged. "Evil triumphs when good men do nothing, Ms. Eva. And women." He smiled.

He'd made the 'and women' an afterthought deliberately just to give her an opening for a comment. "Fighting for peace… maybe the Peace Corps isn't as much of a silly, feel good project as it sounds. A few good women… and men. Have a good night."

"You as well, I trust." He bowed.

She grinned. "Bet on it."

She sashayed up to her room first, unlocking the trunk the maids had been told to not touch and readying her equipment. Guns and bombs and a machete and more bombs and bullets were a girl's best friend. Messengers of death.

She grinned, thinking of all the anti-war and anti-gun protesters nowadays. Give war a chance. It's better than giving a slavery a chance. But she couldn't reach out to them, couldn't let people in her life. Kiss of death. She couldn't afford hostages.

Sparda… she laughed at the thought of him as a hostage to lure her into battle. He'd have to be more careful about her, really. Not, she thought as she checked the timer on an interesting little package, that she had any intention of being a helpless victim. But be prepared, one never knew what the future would bring.

And tonight, she had been brought word of a nest of one of the insect types in an old warehouse. They'd moved on up from going after stray dogs and street people in alleys to being bold enough to spot someone and leave a witness. They weren't stupid, demons. That meant they were pretty confident they had weight of numbers.

But then, they always tended to be overconfident where humans were concerned. She stuffed things in her pockets, locked the trunk with two keys, only one physical, and went to go get her motorcycle from the valet.

Servants doing things quickly and efficiently instead of doing her own chores and laundry. It had been hard to become self-reliant, so many things she hadn't known how to do, and very easy to get used to this. She was almost dreading when Sparda went back to Switzerland and she had to scrub floors again because a maid was a potential hostage and/or spy.

Forget about all that. You're on the mission now, she told herself.

Flying through dark city streets, her trusty trenchcoat keeping the wind from biting into her as she raced along. Now, this was more like it. Civilization was nice, but you wouldn't want to live there all the time. Right?

She pushed open the doors of the bar where her client's go-between was waiting, game face already set. She was having the time of her life today.

…and walked into a room full of Beelzebubs. Now, this was more like it. "Fire in the hole!" she yelled, and hit the dirt as she tossed a package in the air.

Kaboom!

Just enough to scorch the room, didn't know where there were civilians and didn't want to knock down any walls on top of people. She lunged back to her feet, pulling her guns out and taking out a few of the big green ones, who had survived. Her motorcycle goggles let her see through the smoke, and experienced ears picked up screaming over her own gunfire and the buzzing of the demons. She wished Sparda was here, he was good at finding survivors (probably could smell them)…

Tell her the idiot hadn't picked a rondevu point only a block shy of the nest. Everyone knew Beelzebubs were attracted to alcohol! …well, to be fair, every hunter knew. They'd laugh about this later.

The place was coated in fire now, decades of spills in what was probably an old speakeasy soaked into the wood, the cacophony punctuated by bottles of whiskey and scotch boiling in their bottles before exploding, adding more fuel to the flames. Probably not good old vintages going to waste here…

They tried to split larvae at her, but the fire dried them out, weakening them so much it was child's play to shake them off even before they managed to bite through her coat. Their poison wasn't that strong, for demons, so she wasn't that worried even if she did get bit. She'd helped take out a Phantom.

She tossed herbs on the flames around her, the smoke rising and choking them. She kept the goggles she wore while riding over her eyes and an enchanted cloth over her mouth. That smoke would hurt her almost as much as it hurt them, and she was more fragile. It was nice of him not to make an issue of it…

She swung a machete to cut down some big tough men held in place by strands as they cowered, almost as afraid of the fire-red figure striding through the smoke, thunder striking down the unholy creatures, as they were of the overgrown cockroaches. It was said their host-species would survive a nuclear holocaust. Well, they wouldn't survive this one of natural flame.

She covered the civilians on their way out and dove back in as hands reached out to her to pull her back, you won't survive, you're not strong enough, man! …man?

Well, her hair was tucked under her coat (no sense in letting it burn off), and this wasn't exactly a womanly thing to do, but she was rescuing sexist pigs!

Something to complain to him about. She laughed, and tried not to cough. Too hot.

Thank whatever she'd replaced all her cooling spells first thing. Can't take the heat, get out of the kitchen. …my, how domestic, she'd have a cook fire next.

Burn, babies, burn! She laughed. And they screamed around her.

She heard gunshots behind her and turned with a grin, done already? But it was some idiot civilian trying to help.

She wondered if this was what she looked like to him… no, he respected her _because_ she had to work so hard to be a match for even weak ones like these…

Kaboom! The blast impaled one of them on a pole.

She wasn't a weak woman. Even most hunters were male… whole world was sexist. It was sort of nice to run into someone who looked at her and saw a human instead of a woman, prejudice-wise. Not that he wasn't good at overcoming it…

Fool turned and ran, out of ammo, and she covered him. Her contact? She'd better get paid for this.

That room wasn't cheap, but what was her life worth to her? And the company couldn't be beat and why was she thinking about him when she had a job to do?

Finally, all of them were out of the building and she really made the shack go to the ground. Had to roast all the larvae…

Now for the main nest. She walked in, guns blazing.

Sometimes… she felt like an avenging angel, bringing down fiery vengeance, wielding the power of life and death, and she laughed like she was as mad as they thought she was.

Sometimes, all she could do to a body kept alive far beyond what it should have endured was give it a mercy stroke and let them drown in sweet death. And their last breaths were a sigh of relief and she voiced the screams they could not anymore, voices gone after being trapped in their private hells on earth.

She cut the strands and they fell down and that was all the mercy she could give them.

And a funeral pyre.

Kaboom.

God, she hated them. But not Sparda, he was different.

…and why was she thinking about him and why was there a smile on her lips that wasn't a cruel one? She shook her head, and kept tossing grenades ahead of her.

Sewers. They always took refuge in the sewers. She hated sewers. She dropped the potion vials in the water and was grateful for the cloth that had shielded her from the smoke and now the stench.

She'd have to get the coat dry-cleaned again. Even magical fabric could only take so much damage before the warranty gave out. That meant three days without her best protection. Thank goodness she was staying with someone who could watch her back…

Dodge!

The rounds slamming into the flying blue one pushed it back out of slicing range. How had she been so distracted!

Boom!

Why did she keep thinking about him?

Frantic gunfire, her hands retargeting after each fell, buzzing so loud she could hardly hear herself think.

She didn't like what she was thinking. She wasn't…

Oh no.

She'd like to think he'd cast some spell on her, she really would. That would be a nice, reasonable explanation, and make this nice and fixable. Get a counter spell.

Or, no… if Sparda had cast a spell on her, that would mean he wanted… and he would damn well get it. She wasn't strong enough to fight him off. But why would he even bother with a spell?

Disable her weapons, get her unable to fight back (he'd done it before), and… she was fucked.

But she didn't think he would do something like that, and that was why she was… letting herself care.

Damn it, she'd thought her heart had been ripped out of her chest a long time ago.

And a claw stabbed into the back of her leg.

Damn it! Damn it damn it damn it! Focus!

Don't go all mushy! Kill them and get healing energy!

And then all the adults were dead, and she took her sweet time torching the larvae. The civilians were downing mugs of whatever brew was left.

She got paid. Enough for her to stay in that room for…

She should run.

He would track her down. Now that she thought about it… Hell. She'd been mooning over him this whole time and didn't even realize it.

She'd never really grown up since seeing that stupid, inaccurate movie.

He'd fascinated her. And she'd fascinated him. Why hadn't she realized it?

She didn't think he'd realized it… no. He hadn't. She had to trust him or she'd go mad. He could do anything he damn well wanted to do to her and she was helpless. All she had to rely on was his honor. That he cared for her.

He wouldn't have let another hunter impose on him like she had, she'd seen him around others when five had shown up to handle an emergency. He didn't hang around. Especially if they found out. Didn't want to tempt them into trying to kill him, didn't want trouble…

She made him uncomfortable. He'd tried to pull away, but came back, and she'd gone away and then followed him home and he seemed to be good at keeping her even when they hadn't known they wanted to.

She just had to laugh. They were both so clueless.

She was so afraid.

They could smell fear.

And he was a predator, after all.

Oh hell, she didn't know what to do. Damn her for caring, damn him for being so perfect, damn interesting conversations about history and psychology and just talking shop. Damn him for watching her back, and her for watching him back.

And it was about time for breakfast. She was starving.

She was such a fool. Such a goddamn fool.

She just had to laugh, as she walked through familiar streets after stashing her bike at the hotel. She hadn't gone up to the room. It was late, anyways.

And he was late too. So she leaned against the brick wall in the alley next to the Mom and Pop waffle place and looked up at the sky, which wasn't a ridiculous shade of blue. It was overcast, and quite possibly about to rain, and she was glad, it restored a little of her faith in normalcy. Made her feel a little safer, less like a plaything of Cupid or whatever.

Somebody up there really didn't like her. If there was anybody up there. This wasn't something that could possibly work out, even if he felt the same way which she felt he probably did and thought was probably impossible for a devil.

Look at how her parents had been, and they had had everything in common. Rich people from good families, grown up together… throwing vases, angry shouts and sound of fists hitting flesh…

Age differences (literally a fraction of his age), cultural differences (she'd read the Roman poets, not lived there), racial differences… they were just so not made for each other. This was absolutely, utterly impossible.

Not going to work out.

And he came in the opposite side of the alley, hesitant (it was always a bad sign when he was hesitant), and she rolled her eyes at the heavens. She'd just _known_ he would figure it out tonight too.

And she clenched her fists. Predator. Don't go for weapons, don't run, don't let yourself be afraid… He was looking at her, and smiling apologetically, smiling understandingly, smiling at the joke the universe was playing on them.

She just _knew_ what he was thinking. When did she become a mind reader? When she'd spent every second the both of them could snatch out of two insanely busy schedules chatting together. Just… talking. And him showing her moves, and delicacies, and her taking him to out-of-the-way places like this and if he was human and had a soul she would have to say he was her soulmate.

He opened his mouth to say something and then closed it, shrugging. They both knew. She wondered if they could detect love as well as fear and hate. She wondered how he'd figured out he cared, and he did care, she had to believe it.

She had to run! Devil! Casting a spell on her!

She had to hold still! Devil! She didn't stand a chance against him!

She had to say something! Her…friend! She must look like a complete idiot, standing her on the verge of panic, fists clenching and unclenching, covered in smoke stains and looking like she'd come from a war… her leg shifted. Godsdamnit, she was going to run.

Sparda raised a hand in a signal to stop and she froze. "I would _highly_ advise…" his voice was strained. She'd never heard it less than perfect. There was… almost a growl, almost a hiss, buried in it, just on the edge of hearing and she'd never been so scared in her entire life. He winced… he could feel that, couldn't he.

She took deep breaths, and tried not to hyperventilate. "Not acting like prey. Gotcha." She tried to smile.

He laughed, not a laugh of good humor but a laugh at the insanity of the realm of light and this… situation. What did he think of this situation?

She probably didn't bear much resemblance to an eligible female devil. He looked like a rather elegible bachelor, but the form described in the texts she'd gotten from the Redgraves hadn't. A mottled brown giant with dragonfly wings and horns, fangs and claws and spikes slick with crimson blood.

He hadn't been very nice, before he'd decided to be nice. She realized suddenly she probably knew more about him than anyone had in centuries.

She realized she was jealous of anyone who had known more. There… hadn't been others, had there? There weren't in the records… she wanted to shoot them, if so.

Hell, she was lost.

She just couldn't help but laugh. And he joined and what started out as desperate turned to graffawing, and she shook her head at him and he shrugged. "This can't possibly end well."

"I quite agree, Ms. Williams."

"But I refuse to end up a corpse, or even worse spend the rest of my life pining away like a character in a bad novel. So… what do you say we pretend it can, until we manage to annoy the hell out of each other enough we can't stand the sight of each other?"

He laughed. "Agreed, Ms. Williams."

"Call me Eva."

"Agreed, Eva." He bowed.

"I've changed my mind. You can pay for breakfast."


	7. Vb My Dear

Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry. If I did, I would have a lot more money.

Combat mechanics here based on cutscenes. I go with the in-game battle mechanics for Eva because she's weaker. This is Sparda.

* * *

This had been one of the most irritating nights he had had in quite a while.

Of course, it didn't hold a candle to when he had still been pretending loyalty to Mundus, after he had had his change of heart (though he still didn't have a heart) but before the time had been right to strike.

Attempting to convince the humans he had needed to assist him that he was on their side had also been annoying. Here he had decided to save them when otherwise they were doomed, and they were still calling him murderer, and now liar.

A liar? Demons were far more honest than humans.

Why it had been such a strain not to denounce Mundus in his own hall. He had had to grit his teeth.

The legends said he had become human. Died a human.

He would much rather die a devil. Humans might not be worthless, but he would still rather be himself.

He still hadn't become a liar, even after all this time here. So he made it utterly obvious who and what he was. Name, shadow… not his fault if they failed to notice, most of them.

Even though most of the time he wanted them not to notice.

They had noticed tonight. And he had hoped for a civil meeting, a mere exchange of information that had ended up with his contacts shooting at him.

Nothing that hadn't happened before, and the shots were easy to avoid. Still. Irritating.

Irritating enough he had found himself growling slightly under his breath while flying back to the city. Really. He had much more control than that. Self-control was a virtue all knights, even devil knights viewed as vital. Self-control was why he managed to get through every day without a trail of corpses.

He had sworn an oath. Sometimes not wanting to prove the human (even one stronger than the rest of them) right was all that held him back.

It was nothing out of the ordinary.

So why was he taking it so hard?

His eyes had glowed then, and he had smiled. Demons nearby. Prey.

He could use some exercise.

He dropped straight down out of the sky, powers pushing against the ground as he landed to slow his fall enough he didn't leave footprints in the concrete.

Cloaked ones with scythes (really, those types were far too common. No creativity among these lesser demons) attacking some woman and her child. Without a word he drew Yamato. No use in warning them, they had sensed a strong devil and were turning to him now.

One jumped to slash at him and he slid out of the way, holding Yamato's blade to meet it as it fell. Almost a suicide, really.

These against him? Really, these should be Hell Suicides, that was their sin. He should tell that to Ms. Williams, it would amuse her, and say something amusing in exchange.

She had a rather quick wit, for a human. Not like this woman.

Shielding her son with her body was selfless but pointless. Now that their attention was clearly on him she should be running.

She was bloody, but her wounds were small, not enough to keep her from carrying the child, who had a broken leg.

This should be obvious, the nearest one to her was ten feet away instead of menacing her.

Yet she was just lying there and _sobbing._ How senseless.

How human. Her weakness should disgust him, he knew. It wasn't her fault she was only human. She was worth fighting for, he told himself again.

Although… it was her fault she wasn't stronger. She could have been stronger, Eva proved that.

Those thoughts flashed through his mind as he sidestepped again, like a Spanish bullfighter, leaving the charging demon to run itself through on Yamato instead of run though a piece of cloth.

Two down. Only five left to go. This would be over too quickly. The last time he had had a decent fight was that Phantom.

That had also been a pleasure because he had been able to observe some decent fighting. He had been here almost two thousand years. It was good to know that humans had improved at least somewhat in that time.

He wondered how she would do against a lieutenant one-on-one. Most of the humans who had pulled that off during the war had been sorcerers, humans wielding demon powers and starting to transform into part-devils. It had been accepted then.

Now, it was deemed evil, and so the only humans who gained that power were evil. Foolish, to discard a tool.

He was used to human foolishness. Why was it irritating him so much tonight? He wondered this as he drew Ombra with his left hand and drove the other four back with perfectly placed shots as he jumped over to land on the fifth Yamato-first.

Four to go.

At least the woman had stopped screaming now, he consoled himself as he sheathed Yamato in favor of Luce.

However, the boy was still screaming. That was reasonable, the break looked rather bad.

The demons had just been toying with them, keeping them in good condition so they would produce fear and agony for longer.

But demons could also feed on death. Sparda gave the two nearest the woman and her child two shots each and then back flipped away from the group.

He beckoned to them, still silent. Come and get me.

Forgetting the helpless mortals and the power they would gain by killing them (it wouldn't have been enough to survive in any case) they slowly stalked over to him.

Sparda was sure they would have seemed rather menacing if he was a normal human, but to try such a childish display on someone who had already killed three of their number? Pitiful. In his day…

But then, now he was on the side of humanity. So it was a good thing his opponents were fools.

These did not deserve to exist as demons. They made demonkind look stupid. Mundus and his reliance on cannon fodder. Sparda sneered slightly.

The Hell Suicides spread out, forming a square around him and waving their scythes, making a big show out of how they were ready to pounce.

Eva would have dropped a grenade and jumped up, using her coat to catch the blast and push her farther up and out of the way while these fools perished.

Explosive use was becoming more common as a human tactic.

Mundus' servants, at least some of the older ones, had defenses against swords and melee weapons. They were developing them _just_ as humans were relieved to be abandoning them.

Really.

No wonder that Ms. Williams was so surprised he was intelligent and well-read, he mused as he drew Yamato and in one motion spun around and shattered all four of them into dust.

Mind you, he was surprised as well. Most hunters had little time for anything that wasn't connected to survival.

Perhaps that was why he had grown so irritated recently.

He had gotten used to dealing with someone who was much more reasonable than most humans, so when he had to deal with the typical ones they seemed even more foolish than usual.

It was like the difference between cannon fodder and a dark knight, really. Or, in the case of those hunters, a lieutenant and a dark knight. She was most exceptional for a human.

He sheathed Yamato and walked over to the woman.

She was looking at him with a little fear.

The falling out of the sky and the back flip. He cursed mentally. That had been showing off. He should have come to earth out of sight and not been so flamboyant in combat. He needed to pass for a human, with a human's limits.

Reproaching himself for the slip, he smiled down at her and offered her a hand up. "Are you all right, Mrs….?"

"Missus Talbot." Relief overrode curiosity and she carefully took the hand up, limping a little. "Thank you so much, Mister…?"

"I'm so sorry, I should have introduced myself first." He bowed, heels clicking. "Sir von Schwärzung."

"Thank you very much, Sir. I thought we were dead. What were those things?"

Really. What did she think they were? "Demons, I'm afraid." He bent down to look at the boy, who was sniffling quietly now, trying at least to be brave and not cry. "That's a nasty break. We had better get you to a hospital."

He hoped this didn't make him late for breakfast with Eva, but he couldn't just leave them here to suffer.

Well, to be honest, he could. Rather easily. But it wouldn't be in character. He had no interest in being a human, being weak (although he trusted if he had been born a human he would have dedicated himself to becoming stronger, as Ms. Williams had), but he could at least act like it.

Act like a noble human as he was a noble demon.

She, Ms. Williams, understood that. Few did. They thought he was noble _in spite of _being a devil.

"Thank you so much sir," the woman gushed, starting to settle into what fairy tales told her was her role in this story. The grateful damsel in distress.

It got _boring_ after the first few thousand times. He knelt down. "Here, I'll carry you." He lifted the boy easily and stood up. "Where is the nearest hospital? Or is there somewhere nearby you can get a ride?"

"My car is in the parking lot." She pointed to the edge of the park. "Demons? Really? Are we…"

"You're safe now," he reassured her. "And it's probably better for you to not know the details. And yes, you are safe now. Unless those were sent to attack you, lightening doesn't strike twice."

"Sent to attack us?" She paled. "Why would anyone do that?"

"Human sorcerers sometimes summon demons to kill." He started to walk towards the parking lot. "If you can't think of anyone, it was certainly just a coincidence. This city has a very competent hunter, I'm sure if there were any sorcerers around here she would have dealt with them."

"She?" That wasn't part of the story. A woman, fighting demons? How exceptional. The last human female who had fought that well had been the priestess Maria, and she had hated him, quite deliciously so.

"Yes, she." He nodded. It irritated him that she was underestimated by the very people she fought for because of her birth. But then, he had been (and still was) hated by those he protected because of his. Another thing they had in common.

"A girl?" The boy asked.

"A woman, and yes." He tried to hold the leg gently, but, "You've lost a lot of blood. Could you reach in that pocket?" He asked the woman. "I have a thermos of tea, and he really should drink something."

She did. "Thank you, sir."

"I don't like tea," the boy complained.

"Daniel, drink it," she ordered him, habit of command causing her to show a little fire.

"All right, all right." She handed it to him and he drank.

They had reached the parking lot. "There's our car." She pointed to it.

"If you open the door, I can lay him down on the back seat. That might be the most comfortable." She complied, her hands fumbling with the keys. Still nervous.

Sparda laid him down. "Do you need anything else?"

She shook her head." Thank you so, so much. We would be dead now if you hadn't come." Privately, Sparda doubted that. The demons would have kept tormenting them for at least another hour. "How did you know they were here?"

"I have a sixth sense for these things." He smiled. She was still radiating fear, eyes darting off to look in the shadows. "I'm sure it won't happen again, but let me give you Ms. William's number." He made a show of fumbling in the pocket: it contained whatever he wanted it to contain. Pad and pen, in this case. He paused. "I'm not sure how much longer she'll be staying where she is," he would have to go back to Switzerland eventually, after all, "but this man should know how to reach her." Her informant's number.

"Thank you so much." She grasped his hand. "How can I ever repay you?" Oh dear. She thought he was handsome. The downside of being that way.

"Just get your son to the hospital and try not to worry too much, hmm?" He smiled. "Now I really must be going, I agreed to meet her for breakfast."

"Her?"

"Ms.Williams." Her eyes looked like he had just confirmed something. Really, it wasn't that way at all. "I was in town on business and I decided to compare notes with her on recent demonic activity." So how had she ended up staying with him?

A prudent devil never, never let a stranger share their home. It was simply begging to be killed and eaten.

"Oh." She nodded, disappointed.

"Mommy, it hurts!" The boy had tried to sit up and put weight on the leg. He hissed and clutched it.

"Hold still, Daniel! We'll be at the hospital in five minutes, just hold on until then, okay?" Her attention was riveted to the child now. A relief. "I'm sorry, but I have to go."

"I understand." He bowed again. "Good night, Mrs. Talbot, and I wish we could have met under better circumstances."

"Thank you again!" She got in the car and started it.

He walked away out of sight until she drove off, then teleported up into the air again.

He checked his watch. He would have to hurry, or he might not be early.

Really, why did he care so much?

She was a truly excellent fighter, probably the best one who wasn't either part demon or relying entirely on magic he had seen in centuries, if ever.

It was admirable that she was doing so well, of course. He had needed to train for millennia to gain his skills (skilled enough no one had yet figured out that the seal drained him of all but a fraction of his power) , but she had only had a quarter century.

Really, since she had been raised as a typical ornamental human female, she had less than a decade of experience. To go from nothing to someone who could have taken out a Phantom even if he hadn't been there was truly impressive.

He remembered her fights.

Economical, that was her style. Using explosives and rapid tactics to minimize the length of the fight, helping keep her low human stamina from counting against her. Running and flipping to keep enemies at a distance. Too many humans, even the best hunters, tried to stand their ground instead of properly thinking in four dimensions.

Strength. He'd grown so used to tolerating weakness it was a relief to see it.

But that wasn't all of it, was it.

She was out right now, fighting, and he wished he could see it. Not simply to observe hunter tactics as he had said. He wished she had not asked him not to spy on her. That had made it a matter of honor.

He wondered if he could arrange to be invited along in future. He would talk with her about it during breakfast.

Ah yes, breakfast. Eating together.

A human notion, social eating among. Demons with prey didn't share with those who weren't family. He had gotten used to it: bread and salt made humans feel more secure.

They were both busy, but he could have had those dinners be business meetings. That would have been far more productive.

He could have wrapped up the deals regarding investment in the Third World that were keeping him here (but weren't the only reason he was here) months ago if he had hurried like he would have normally.

Really.

Helping her fight, letting her share his nest, giving her gifts and food.

If she was a devil, he would think he was considering her as a potential mate.

Ridiculous.

He smiled, flying along. Then frowned.

He hoped she didn't see it that way. True, he caused her to feel happy, but surely even a Hunter far less prejudiced than most wouldn't allow herself to fall for a demon.

Devils and humans had mated in the past, when humans were stronger and devils were gods, but nowadays? Preposterous.

Still, he knew he was handsome, and polite, and they did have common interests. He would have to be careful she didn't start to have feelings for him. That would wreck a perfectly good working relationship.

He wouldn't blame her for trying to kill him if she thought he was trying to seduce her. Not in the slightest.

It certainly wasn't impossible for a male and a female to have a non-romantic relationship. And he was a devil, not a human male. He wasn't attracted to her, even if she fought well. For a human.

She was a human. She would be dead soon. Even if she fought well, her profession was a dangerous one. Being his mate would be even more dangerous: he had enemies on both sides.

Some would think her as much a traitor as he was.

This was utterly ridiculous.

Even if he… considered this idea for an instant, he couldn't allow himself to be attracted to her. If he was, he should stay far away from her. If his control slipped, he would… well, not rape her. Kill her and then rape her, for as long as her gold orbs held out.

Among demons, the loser belonged to the victor, to do with as they pleased. So… was he tempted by that idea? Having this most unusual human bow down to him? To taste its fear, lust, and worship?

Love?

She did have warm feelings for him, but wouldn't she be more worried?

After all, she knew what demons were.

She knew that he wanted to rip and tear, no matter how he acted. No matter how tight his control was, the desire was there.

Take her apart, see what made her special. Fight the closest thing to a worthy opponent he'd seen in far too long.

The idea was attractive.

She wasn't attractive. Soft smooth skin instead of a hard carapace, only tiny little fangs and ornamental claws like all her kind. She had muscles and that was about it. Lean ones.

Judged by human standards of beauty… well, human standards of beauty varied widely.

Her will.

Common interests as well.

He should go. Arrange for a note to be delivered to her room saying something polite. No, he should say goodbye in person, he owed her that much, even though he certainly wasn't fool enough to say why.

She read him damnably well.

And he was here, wasn't he. This alley was where they would meet. He dropped down into it.

He wished he could lie. To himself, if nothing else.

That was a human vice, but now it seemed like a virtue.

He was what he was, and what he was was interested in what she was. No, more than interested.

She was… he didn't know. Herself. A human.

This was utterly wrong and could never work out. He would slip up and kill her, he knew he would.

She was coming closer, he knew that was her.

Love and fear, he could taste them.

She came into the alley a few steps before she noticed him. That wasn't like her, she always noticed everything.

He could see as well as feel her conflict, flight and fight warring within her, when if she chose either he knew he would pounce and…

No! He grabbed the last shreds of his control and held up a hand. "I would highly advise…" His voice didn't sound normal.

"Not acting like prey. Gotcha." He didn't need to say it, she understood.

He laughed. Laughing was the other side of crying, a way to deal with emotions by getting rid of them. He rarely did it like that, merely as a sign he was amused. This was utterly… he didn't want to kill her.

"This can't possibly end well." Typically blunt and true.

"I quite agree, Ms. Williams." A tinge of sarcasm in his tone. He didn't want to move. If he did, there was too much of a chance he would pounce.

"But I refuse to end up a corpse, or even worse spend the rest of my life pining away like a character in a bad novel. So… what do you say we pretend it can, until we manage to annoy the hell out of each other enough we can't stand the sight of each other?"

She… she trusted him? She wanted to spend more time with him?

It made him love her more, even though she was expecting the impossible. Or perhaps because she was. Again, he laughed. "Agreed, Ms. Williams."

"Call me Eva."

"Agreed, Eva." He bowed to her, because she deserved it, because she was brave and brilliant and enough of a fool to risk giving him what he wanted. Because she wanted to give him what he wanted. She wanted his happiness.

"I've changed my mind. You can pay for breakfast." A somewhat strained smile, but there.

Share his kill with her? He would. Gladly.

She walked up to him, reached out her hand to take his. He let his own reach out. Careful, no claws. Stay human. Seemingly human. You can do this.

You toppled an empire, Sparda. You can make the other part of the legend real if you choose to.

Fall in love with a human. Marry her.

Humans and their stories.


	8. VI Beastly

Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry. Dante owns it. Capcom just has all the legal rights.

Six is sometimes considered to be the 'bad' number due to 666, so I'm going with that even though it's my lucky number. Because everyone has to have a bad date, and even the great Sparda is helpless against Murphy's law.

DMCDMCDMCDMCDMCDMCDMCDMC

She had absolutely nothing at all to wear.

Making field repairs to clothing was inevitable in this job, sewing one of the few things she'd learned back when she was a child that was of any use now, so she'd thought she could make a few alterations to the dress the lady's maid at the hotel Sparda had put her up at that time she'd gotten ambushed and it would be usable… but she'd forgotten she'd ended up ripping it up for bandages the next time she'd run into him.

He was definitely going to take her on the 'date' they'd decided to have as part of the try-this-out-until-we-inevitably-break-up plan to someplace classy.

The people in the upper class thinking she was a 'courtesan' and the people in the underworld thinking he was her sugar daddy was only amusing while they _weren't_ involved.

Goodness knew how far this would go… she didn't want to embarrass him by being low-class. Which meant a fashionable dress she would wear only once. Something designer.

Unfortunately, she didn't have the money. Setting up the new shop had tapped out her reserves, and then the damn thing had burned it to the ground.

Staying in this hotel with Sparda was expensive. She'd insisted on paying for it, not to be a leech, and it was worth it to have somewhere safe to stay.

Now she was wondering if it was worth it, because if she hadn't stayed here she hopefully wouldn't have been around him enough to fall in love with him and if she hadn't stayed here she would have been building up her reserves for a new shop… and would have enough money to blow on a decent dress.

So… looked like she'd have to buy something half-decent at a department store and buy some fabric and add a few things to make it look one-of-a-kind. Do-able, if she worked fast.

Ugly, ugly, ugly, eew, pastel, pink… she ended up buying a simple short sleeveless black dress, a red shawl (because red was her lucky color, and she was going to need all the luck she could get), and some black gauze to add a sort of see-through skirt and sleeves to it. Pretty simple. She even knew a tailor who would let her borrow the sewing machine for fifteen minutes no problem.

She tried it on in front of the mirror and was pretty proud of herself. The fact that you could just barely see her legs and arms through the gauze made people look at them, and she was in such good shape that they were probably her best features.

Well, that and it had taken a while to find a dress sized to show off her waistline.

…she'd be wearing make-up next. Why was she trying to impress him with her looks and, let's face it, sexiness? It would be smarter to wear a shapeless bag.

She sighed, and took her hair out of its ponytail, letting it fall freely across her shoulders and the ruby shawl.

All the time when she'd been growing up, it had been decorum this and femininity that and getting a man, making a good match for herself and the family.

One little crush and her façade of an independent woman just crumbled like _that_. It was embarrassing.

She was used to being stared at, she was used to people undressing her with her eyes, but in her khaki work pants with the pockets and black tee and red leather trenchcoat and submachine guns the message was understood to be, look but don't touch. Though some idiots failed to pick up on it…

But a dress… one obviously meant to attract attention… hell, she felt modest.

How long had it been since…

This was going to go badly. Badly, badly, badly, even without him being a devil. They just lived in too different worlds. She remembered the upper-class world, and she'd disliked it then and she hated it now, what it represented.

Smug barons living off the oppression of the workers.

But Sparda wasn't like that. He'd had the bank started way back when to help the people who lived on his lands, and encourage trade, and kept it up because its reputation for stability and standards meant it closing would hurt a lot of people who kept their money there, and companies the money was invested in… she knew how banks worked, but… she'd never really thought about it that way. Her father didn't think about it that way.

Sparda was a devil, yet he had more human compassion than most.

And that was why she was dressing up. She wanted… this wouldn't work out, but there wasn't any harm in pretending. She wanted this to be a good memory for him, after it ended.

And it was a good thing that it would inevitably end, because she was a human and he was a devil, and they were just too different, and even if they somehow managed to get along despite all that, he was still in his prime and she was mortal.

This wasn't going to work out, but it could be fun while it lasted.

She had earrings. Red ones, little roses. She liked roses, real ones, they had god-awful thorns. A better symbol of womanhood than most feminists thought. She wouldn't need the enchantments tonight, but jewelry was jewelry. She had charm bracelets…

And she slipped a pistol in her purse because you never went anywhere unarmed. She'd be disqualified from life if she got in the bad habit of thinking anywhere was safe.

What was he doing now?

Was he stressed out too? Hoping everything would go perfectly?

Was he adjusting that elaborate collar in front of a mirror, checking his cuffs, combing his hair, going over in his mind how he would greet her? She hoped he wasn't above all those petty little human things.

Was he at the restaurant, checking that things would go smoothly? They were meeting for dinner at 7:20, it was only 5:03… she shouldn't have gotten ready so early, it gave her much too much time to worry. Worrying never helped anything, unless you were worrying if you'd survive a mission and ended up packing extra weapons.

So… what weapons could she pack?

…maybe she should buy make-up. She changed out of the dress and went to a corner store. Cheap make-up, but no one would be able to tell, right? And she was pretty sure _this_ was about the shade of her shawl.

Man, it had been… over eight years since she'd had make-up on. And she'd usually had it put on her.

She _really_ wanted this to go smoothly. He was just… well, she was against marriage, an invention of the patriarchy, but… and why was she thinking about something that would never happen?

Get a grip, Eva.

She was starting to truly appreciate the extent to which love sucked. Couldn't think straight. …and this wasn't even love, of course. Just a stupid little crush. Right.

Wasn't there some statute of limitations on those things? Twenty-five should be too old for this. She wasn't a giggling teenager, damn it.

She hadn't been a giggling teenager since she'd stolen and read the copies her dad had insisted on getting, after the fact, of the Coroner's report about the condition of her sister's body.

And why was she thinking about that? She never thought about that. It did no _good_ to think about it. Killing devil-worshippers and demons so that would never happen again was what _did_ do good.

…and here she was getting all dolled up to date a devil.

She sighed. She wasn't betraying her sister's memory, she still wanted to kill all the _rest _of them… but part of her didn't see it that way.

She felt like such a fool, led around by her hormones. It didn't help that he was damn hot. Probably a good thing he wore so much clothing, otherwise everyone would be drooling over him… well, succubi and so one were beautiful and seductive and evil. Couldn't forget evil.

He wasn't evil. But he had been. He was good because he'd chosen to be.

She had to have faith in him and his willpower.

…which was hard to maintain seeing how much this had devastated her own.

She carefully used a tissue to blot her lips a few times and get the bits that had wandered cleaned up.

There. She looked… classy. Not as classy as he did, but she wouldn't look horribly underdressed.

She brushed her hair again, and put the brush in her purse. She knew she looked great with her long hair free, but the problem with that was that the movements of her shoulders and the wind wreaked bloody havoc on it. She usually kept it tied back with a vengeance so it didn't blow in front of her eyes or get grabbed or something.

…she didn't want to think about the possibility he might grab it.

She didn't want to think about the possibility his eyes might glow red and he'd grab her and fangs…

She shivered.

Good thing she was alone and no one had seen that. She'd never live it down.

Humans were just animals, really. She'd seen the record of what they could do on sterile white pages and carved bloody in human flesh. Demons…

But most humans weren't like that. But most demons were.

She just had to trust that Sparda was the exception. He was the exception to so much…

She took a deep breath and tried to do that meditation thing. Don't think. Most of the time, thinking is the only thing that will help you, but sometimes it won't help and you need to just turn it off. Quit agonizing and _do._ Quit worrying and have a good time.

She practiced smiling in front of the mirror. And doing the little curtsy and the other polite things upper-class people did, that she'd used to do. And went over in her mind what all the utensils did.

And then it was 7:06 and she decided the hell with it and went down to the lobby. Maybe she'd find something to distract her.

Sparda was already down there, she saw from the staircase. He was sitting in one of the armchairs with papers on a table beside him. Paperwork, it looked like. He seemed utterly composed, calm and in control.

Eva walked to the other side of the lobby and watched him.

Something occurred to her then: some hunters hated equipment maintenance, shop maintenance, cleaning house and sewing and oiling guns and wiring bombs. Chores.

She's always found them soothing. There was something about a task that had been done so often there wouldn't be any surprises; that you could start and work on in almost a trance and then be finished.

She'd felt like that earlier, working on the dress, letting her hands move and her thoughts calm.

He seemed to be doing the same thing, reading and turning the pages and signing almost with a rhythm.

Maybe it was just that he did everything perfectly (so long to practice), but… the Zen of Paperwork.

It made her smile with relief, that he was worried too. She let herself just watch him, as he frowned slightly, clearly seeing something out of place, and wrote a brief note on a pad, and returned to reading.

At 7:12 he gathered up the papers and walked briskly upstairs without seeing her where she sat in an out of the way corner. He came back down at 7:18, having put the papers in his room, probably.

He went to stand by the revolving door and checked an antique watch on a chain.

That made her smile too. Watching the clock… she stood and walked over. He spotted her as soon as she rose, and bowed, heels clicking, as she walked over. "Ms. Eva."

He seemed at a loss what else to say. She smiled. She liked (she could admit it to herself) how he was in control in almost every situation, but it was sort of… cute, endearing (if one could use those words about a millennia-old devil knight), that he was worried about this going well as she.

"Call me Eva." She held out her hand to him, smiling.

He took it. "Eva." He smiled back, a smile of understanding and a hint of self-mockery, acknowledgement he knew that she knew… that they were both so worried about this, so out of practice.

Well, she'd only ever been 'in practice' for one 'date' her family had set up that she'd only seen a few other times before, and once after across the room at a dance.

Protocol when a man was leading a woman was to her to hook her arm through his and be led. She liked that he wasn't silly enough to try that with her. Instead he bowed over her hand and released it, then waved towards the glass doors. "Shall we go?"

"Sounds great." She smiled at him. See? Going great so far. Relax.

The valet had his car right outside. A… she'd seen that make before, but she couldn't remember the name. It screamed status symbol in black and silver. Clearly an older one, antique and classic… very appropriate for him.

He opened the passenger side door for her and bowed, and she wasn't sure about the precedent or the idea, the weak woman needing doors opened for her, but it was the polite thing to do and she was weaker than him, but she could damn well open her own doors… She inwardly shrugged it off. It was sweet.

She nodded at him in acknowledgement and gracefully got in. He tipped the valet and got in on the driver's side. No chauffeur?

She liked that he drove himself.

She liked a lot of things about him, that was why they were in this situation.

Pretty much everything about him was great except for the devil part. And hadn't she been the one saying people should look at his deeds and not hold his race against him?

He concentrated on driving, which he did extremely well. She concentrated on looking at him.

It was really hard to guess his age, with the stern unlined face and silver hair. Very beautiful. And very useful for someone who was practically immortal.

How long would he live? Long past her.

She didn't want him to mourn her.

Maybe she should try to get this whole thing over with soon.

They got to the restaurant, and he handed the keys to another valet and she took his arm this time. He looked at her with mild surprise, then got the message, smiled, and led her in to the restaurant.

They would pretend to be conventional, for tonight. Tomorrow… she'd see how this went.

Try not to visibly take a deep breath, Eva.

He let her go just inside to walk up to the maitre d' and let him know that they had arrived. The man bowed to him deeply and took them to be seated immediately.

They were given menus right away and they read them as they were still nervous and didn't know quite what to say. The Maitre d' welcomed them to the restaurant, bowing, and left the two of them alone inside a private little room, separated by heavy velvet drapes from the rest of the dining area.

So they could talk without being overheard. Sparda had thought of everything.

AS soon as they came up with something to talk about.

My, this wasn't as awkward as she'd thought it would be, even though they were both staying silent. They both knew why the other was staying silent and it seemed like a sort of wry humor filled the air.

The waiter came by to get drink orders. He asked for a specific vintage of wine, she'd never been interested in that, and she had a virgin strawberry margarita. Her head was unclear enough as it was.

But really, she should think of something to say. And she wasn't really going to be able to think without her mind going round and round in circles sitting across from him. Time to make with the ultimate stereotypical female excuse.

"Sorry, I know we just got here, but do you mind if I go freshen up?" She smiled at him, wryly.

They both knew, and he smiled, almost relieved. "Of course, Eva."

She got up, nodded thanks, and left, taking her purse with her.

Brushing her hair, re-applying make-up that didn't really need it, and adjusting her shawl helped. Little rituals of civilization. This was the urban jungle, not a real one.

Talk shop, idiot. That's what you always do. And history. Just because you're dating doesn't mean you've suddenly become total strangers.

Rather the opposite, really.

On her way back, she passed a party of businessmen who were being seated.

One of them grabbed her arm. She grabbed his back before realizing this wasn't a threat. "Here, now! Aren't you Lucian's woman?"

…she blinked. "Uh…" She wasn't anybody's woman! …but she was dating him now, was that what he had meant? …had Sparda told people he was dating her without asking her first!

…well, why shouldn't he?

"…yes?" She replied, not knowing what else to say.

"So he's here then? Take us to see him." She was peremptorily told.

She blinked. "Um, we were having a private dinner…" she hadn't been in this situation before, but usually when she was in similar ones the response was to kick the pigs in the groin. And wouldn't that ruin the tone of the evening.

"Nonsense. We're business associates." …father?

…her father didn't recognize her. That was a good thing.

…Sparda wouldn't have left anything to chance in this. Had he known her father would be here? Had he been trying to set up some sort of heartwarming family reunion!

She was going to …die trying to kill him.

"This way."

She pulled back the curtain and sent Sparda her best death glare. He blinked at her. The first time she'd seen him totally at sea. She pulled it all the way back, showing their visitors.

"It's good to see you again, Sir von Schwärzung," George Morgan said, sitting in the free chair. Impolite to take a lady's seat, but she wasn't a lady and he was getting old. "How're you doing? Have you looked at the papers I sent you about the Wolff account yet?"

Realization dawned on Sparda's face, and he winced. Eva would perhaps have been mollified to see this if she hadn't been pushed back to the group by the rest shoving her backwards. "Yes, but could we perhaps discuss it another time? I was hoping to have a private dinner with a lady friend."

"Oh, never mind the… 'lady.'" George chuckled. "This deal's big enough the change could let her retire from her… profession." He winked.

…had her father just implied she was… he wouldn't just assume, right? Had Sparda told him she was… She pushed her way forward and let him have it!

George blinked at the woman, his hand reaching up to touch where she had slapped him. What was she so angry about? "Here now…"

"I am never speaking to you again!" Eva informed Sparda and stormed out.

Sparda raised a hand to hide his eyes and stood, clearly struggling to control his temper.

"What was that all about?" George stared after her. Surely Lucian had had the sense to hire someone who wouldn't make such a scene… no decent woman would be staying in a hotel unattended with someone else paying for her room…

"Mr. George. Morgan." The room went silent. "I have never been so embarrassed in my _life._ Ms. Williams is most definitely not, as you seem to have assumed, a prostitute. She is a private detective specializing in the New York mob. I had hired her to investigate possible illicit actions involving some associates, and a hit man set the recent fire to _kill her_. I have been letting her stay with me for her own protection until the culprits were dealt with. Ms. Williams is the bravest woman I have ever known, and Mr. Morgan," were those eyes glowing? Just the light… "I am considered to be eccentric, and this will confirm it, but if this were another time or place you, sir, would be facing me on the dueling field."

George stammered. Oh shit. Had to mollify him, or his reputation (and his relations with one of the most important European banks) would be ruined. "I'm terribly sorry…"

"Do not apologize to me. And I doubt she would accept your apology. Excuse me, _gentlemen_," Lucian said to the others as he moved through him after Eva, clearly implying he did not consider George a gentleman, "I doubt she will even accept mine. Good _night_, Mr. Morgan."

And he had been dismissed. There went any chances of patching _that_ up. The others were starting to move slightly away from him, glancing at him. It wasn't that terrible to be seen with a courtesan, hell, he'd done it even before his wife died, but to slip up like that…

Sparda could feel her anger, and followed.

Eva had torn off the skirt and sleeves so she could move faster, wanting to get back to the hotel and get out before he finished talking with them. How could she have thought… he was a demon, there had probably been other women… idiots like her. Real whores… they had seemed to think…

This alley had been closed off. She turned around.

"I'm terribly…"

"Don't say it!" She screamed to him. "Is that all I am to you, a whore? Tell me! How many others have you… I thought you… God, I was such a_ fool_!"

Did he look… almost embarrassed. "None."

…that stopped her cold. "What?"

"No other women. Human or demon. Not to be… but I value strength, intelligence, and most humans are…" he shrugged. "And I attained my strength as a warrior through focusing on training, and after that… Mundus' power was rising, he was using succubi as assassins, and I was no fool, to let myself die or father a child of power that might fall into the hands of another. And I had not met anyone worth the risk before coming here." He laughed briefly. "It is embarrassing to say it, but I am a virgin. And I can only hope you believe me when I say I thought your father would be in a meeting until ten, and never said anything to confirm the rumors." He bowed. "I understand if you do not want to speak to me again.

Eva laughed. "You… you're…" She couldn't stop laughing, and he joined in. Laughed at the absurdity of this whole situation.

She walked up to him. "Come on." She held her hand out.

He looked at her wonderingly. "I want to go kill something," she explained.

He laughed, taking her hand. "It will probably be a better date in any case."

Eva smiled. "I don't do civil. And that won't be hard."

Sparda sighed. "I took the utmost care that this would be perfect… but the best laid plans of mice and men, and devils too it seems. I'm sorry, Eva."

She shrugged, smiling. "Don't be. Everybody screws up. Makes you a little more human."

They laughed.


	9. VII Just Divine

Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry. You can tell by the way Eva wasn't the unlockable in 3 instead of Sparda. Although I love him too.

This is the seventh fic in the Rapture series. _Wonderful Journey_ is now number 7b and takes place in the period around this and before the next one. It's really a side fic. Kudos to anyone who catches the Terry Pratchett reference in the fact that the one Sparda narrates is number 7b aka 8.

While six is considered the bad number (and they just had to have at least one bad date, in a real relationship), seven is considered the good number. Besides that, as in 6, I'm not doing that much with it.

DMCDMCDMCDMCDMCDMCDMCDMC

Eva used her hands to spread her coat wider so the blast from the explosion behind her would help her lunge forward, out of the way as Sparda jumped in from where he'd been picking them off from midair to get between her and the last few, katana flashing. She kept the ones that tried to mob her back with the impact of her submachine guns' rapid fire.

Now _this_ was fun.

And Sparda definitely seemed to agree, though he remained calm and composed as always, there and gone, a silent dark counterpoint to her brash crimson presence.

She liked swing dancing, but this was much more like it.

And dancing only… well, it was exercise, and fun while it lasted, but people would be able to sleep soundly in their beds tonight because of this.

And the money and the adrenaline rush and the vengeance.

She'd taken to this life faster than she'd thought she would, way back when.

But she was having a really great night, and she wasn't going to ruin it by thinking about things.

These ones didn't have weapons, which was interesting… the cannon fodder seemed to be armed nowadays. It was usually the weird ones, the stronger ones that just fought with their hands or tentacles or whatever they had.

Lizards? Probably a prototype for something. Sparda seemed to be focusing on them, seriously. "What's wrong?"

"These are designed to function in a warded environment." He said loudly enough to be heard, and jumped so they were back-to-back. Damn agile things. "Many of the conventional protections won't work on these, when they refine the capability. Very worrying."

Eva didn't pause for thought. That would be a bad idea currently. "You mean these are set up to attack…" A clump of them, a perfect target for… Boom!

"Against serious defenses, yes." Sparda nodded, though she couldn't see him. They'd headed forward, in opposite directions, at the explosion.

"Ouch." There really was an increase in demonic attacks on Hunters, but they'd restricted themselves to picking people off outside their warded shops. "You think…" She was momentarily surrounded by six of the smaller ones and had to think quick to blast them back.

Sparda placed his katana blade in the way of one that was trying to jump on her back, stabbing it multiple times so fast she could barely even see the blur. "Thank you!" She leaped to the side, out of the way of another.

"You're welcome!" He'd told her he didn't need thanks, she'd told him she was going to thank him anyway. He'd smiled at that. She'd smiled back. They were doing a lot of that, she thought, switching to only one gun while the other hand pried the cap off of a grenade.

She dodged again, timing the leap and the throw so it ricocheted.

Boom!

Sparda sheathed his katana. "I think that's the last of them."

Eva agreed, putting her guns back inside her coat. "We still have a problem."

"And what might that be?" Sparda turned to her. Her tone wasn't flippant enough for the 'problem' to be an actual threat. "Besides the evidence Mundus is clearly beginning to set up for a serious offensive?"

"I'm not finding you annoying."

"Same. I believe the deal was that we would 'date' until we managed to convince our hearts as well as our minds that we were in fact totally unsuited to each other. Yet this shows no signs of happening." Sparda shrugged with theatrical bemusement.

"Right. The more I'm around you, the more you grow on me. Only hopefully not literally."

"Indeed. I have to say the same for you." They were smiling at each other still.

"If we're not careful, well, you remember how I shot at you, and then we went to tea and ended up tolerating each other, and then you saved my life a few times and I was willing to go stay with you, and then we ended up with these ridiculous crushes on each other?" she listed with a mock professorial tone.

"I believe that was how it went, yes." She liked it when he smiled. He was doing it a lot around her.

"I'm worried that since we have this pattern of, the more we hang around each other, the more we like each other, this might end up as something serious." And that should be worrying her more than it was.

"We have been 'going steady' for almost three months now. The rules of dating are changing rather rapidly, but I believe we are indeed approaching serious."

"How serious?" And that was the question.

An eyebrow rose as he realized the question was, well, serious, and not just engaging in their usual banter. Her quick wit was one of the things he found attractive about her.

The other was the extent to which she _tried._ She was born a human, with all of that race's weakness of body, mind and soul, and more than that a woman, the sex physically weaker and crippled by the perception that they were inferior. But she put everything she had into what she did, burning brightly enough, fighting hard enough she was the only Hunter the New York region needed to defend it, while London hosted no less than five.

And that was why he owed her an honest answer. "Any more serious, and you would be addressed as Lady Eva."

She'd known he was thinking that. Hell, she was thinking it. Marriage? How… conventional and patriarchal. At least he wouldn't demand she quit her job and stay at home. He thought she was beautiful when she fought. Her right hand fidgeted with her gun as she thought. He'd improved her guns about two hundred percent, just because.

"Well," she said shrugging, flippant tone returning, "I like the sound of that, anyway. Lady Eva. But I'm not wearing a dress I can't move in or one of those big cone hats. But people bowing to me sounds about right."

Sparda laughed. "I bow to you, milady." He sketched an elaborate bow.

She blinked at the extravagance. "Did people really use to do that whole thing with the hand waving?"

"Oh, the rituals were much worse at Byzantium, Milady" Sparda assured her.

Eva frowned. "I don't know if I like the sound of that."

"Milady? Well, it is a less formal mode of address… My Lady would be more proper."

"It's the My Lady bit I don't like. Smacks of patriarchal repression." She frowned, thinking. "I'll tolerate Milady as it involves you therefore being _my_ knight. And someone with so many titles and so on bowing before me is not unappealing."

He laughed, straightening. "You deserve it."

"Of course." She bowed to him. "But it's still flattery."

"Courtiers are allowed to use flattery, and I'm a courtier. Does the clothing not make it obvious?"

"You're anything but a harmless fop."

"You… would _not_ be surprised by how many don't realize that." Even with the shadow. There are none so blind as those who aren't looking…

They laughed.

"I already got paid for this, so what do we do now? It's only six am, that's far too early to go to bed."

"Whatever milady wishes," Sparda replied, bowing again.

Eva shook her arms out. "I'm still feeling pretty worked up… do you want to spar?"

Sparda… blushed? Her jaw dropped. "You're blushing."

"…You are aware how demonkind reveres strength? A sparring match with one who one is… interested in, is usually a prelude to other things."

…and she didn't want to think about that just yet. But… she just couldn't resist teasing him. "So I essentially just offered to perform a striptease?"

Sparda smiled, glad it was back on that level. He liked that she was brave enough to tease him, even though she, too, had seen him in battle. Even with most of his power sealed, he could still defeat her easily, and she knew it and still trusted him. "A striptease would in fact be less provocative. I can aesthetically appreciate human beauty, but you have no wings, fangs, armor, or spikes, let alone attractive ones."

…was she really… well, she wasn't ugly, at least. And she knew she was very pretty for a human… "It's good to know you're not after me for my looks."

Sparda shook his head. "Your mind and soul, yes."

Soul… well, at least he was honest about it. And he surely didn't mean it _that_ way. He hadn't raped her, he wouldn't kill her and enslave her soul. He wasn't that kind of person.

Yes, person.

She loved the person he was. "You, however, are a hunk."

He shrugged wryly. "Why would I choose to be unattractive? Shape-shifting is one of my skills."

Eva nodded. "The records say you could impersonate anybody. Dux Atrum, the dark commander."

Sparda shrugged sighing. "It seemed a game at the time. That you were but animals, but foolish prey. We hunt our own kind: why should we treat you any different? But you are not like us."

Eva snorted. "_We_ hunt our own kind. It's called war, assassination, garden variety murder… you're a saint, you know that?"

Sparda laughed. "The Catholic church would be rather surprised to hear that."

"Have they given you a hard time?" The thought made her angry. He deserved for everyone to respect him, for what he'd done. He deserved the thanks of the world, not having to hide who he was…

Sparda shrugged. "It depended on the Pope. There was usually someone willing to doctor the records to hide my longevity, however."

Longevity… "You've really seen a lot."

"The temple of Artemis at Ephesus; the Great Pyramids of Giza; the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, it's a shame so many think they were just a myth nowadays; the Mausoleum at Halicarnassus, the Colossus of Rhodes was destroyed in an earthquake long before I came to earth, the Statue of Zeus where the Olympic Games were held, Mundus had the face re-done and wings put on it during his reign, the restorers were quite upset; and the lighthouse of Pharos at Alexandria." He ticked them off on his fingers. "All but one of the wonders of the ancient world. The engineers back then were rather skilled: Mundus' cult enlisted several to help build Temen ni Gru. Mundus always did have a monumental ego."

"I've seen the Pyramids. My fa… my family went on a World Tour when I was a child."

"It used to be quite fashionable." Sparda nodded. "I like to travel. For one thing, it avoids drawing attention to the fact I don't age unless I decide to, and on the other… I usually learn something new, at least. For instance, if I had not come to New York, I wouldn't have met you."

And her life would have been a lot less complicated and quite possibly over. Two offices taken out that close together… a hunter without a safe place to sleep was a dead man or woman walking. But this wasn't really hard at all, being in love. She took a step closer, looking up to him, saying, "And I can't really say no to that."

She was looking up at him, he was looking down at her, but not down _on _her. They weren't equals, he was a better fighter by far, better magician, wiser than her, smarter than her, more experienced, he'd had the chance to study things she'd loved to read about as a child but just didn't have the time now…

She knew she wasn't his equal. Wasn't really good enough for him. And it didn't seem to matter to him. He thought she was… herself, and thought her self was worthy of this… relationship. "After all, it ends up with me being involved with the world's most eligible bachelor almost two thousand years running."

He laughed out loud, and lifted a hand to her shoulder. "I very much doubt that, though I have had the awkward experience of hero-worshipping maidens who I happened to rescue, or were members of some court I was visiting, throwing themselves at me for my name or my wealth."

That stung for a second. Did he think she was one of them? She had, she blushed thinking about it, been absolutely insane about that movie. All her friends had been. Envied the priestess, even if she did die tragically it was so romantic…

And here she was standing here, with him, looking up at him as the pre-dawn light suffused the sky and he was much better than the actor had been, although she'd always cynically thought the real thing wasn't as good as the illusions on the silver screen. And it really was just too good to be true.

If it hadn't been for that really horrible first date she would be waiting for the other shoe to drop. She'd been such an idiot that night… and he still liked her after seeing her make a fool of herself so many times.

A few stray wisps of pale gold hair had escaped from where she'd tucked them behind her ears. She liked the new style where it was longer in the back… got in her way less, and she could leave her hair free in front. But it occasionally got moved around when she was moving like crazy in battle, and that was a good thing right now because he gently brushed them from in front of her eyes.

What did he see when he looked at her?

She knew demons could sense fear, see it and draw power from it, fear and rage and panic and despair, that a hunter who couldn't keep calm was letting every single one in the area tell where they were.

She… knew him well enough, she hoped, to usually tell what he was thinking, feeling, but he probably knew so much more about her than she did herself. Certainly more than she did about him, even though she tried not to talk about her past and he was willing to tell her anything. At least she thought so…

She had to trust him, _him_, not some legend of blood and fire and so much darkness before the light had dawned.

People weren't sure if the Hanging Gardens had existed because Mundus' army had razed the palace to the ground when the one the Romans called Dux Atrum had found a way to breach the wards.

Part of the price of the world being a rational, mostly safe place had been destroying the fragmentary records of the events of that war. That hadn't been the only reason the library at Alexandria was burnt… but it was why some of its guardians had stood aside that night.

She was standing here, only six inches or so away from him, and he could change that hand into a claw and lock her coat and she'd go down without even a decent fight.

He wouldn't, though.

That was the wonder of it.

He really was beautiful.

So, so beautiful, with that natural-seeming tan and that platinum hair, richer than silver. Richer than gold. Gold was such a soft metal, she knew… and she really was soft-hearted.

What had happened to hating them all? What had happened to vengeance? She couldn't even quote the old saying, 'Know thy enemy,' because he wasn't her enemy.

She could say he wasn't like the rest of them, because he really wasn't, and she really did love him, and she really wanted to hug him now.

Three months. That was _pitiful_. They hadn't even kissed.

Eva guessed she had wanted to pretend they were just friends, best friends even when he was taking her out to dinner almost every evening, even as they hunted together, even as he paid for her room and gave her gifts of chocolates (a quick pick-me-up in the field), even as she trusted him with her weapons and he paid that trust back a hundred-fold with improvements making her guns almost as half as good as his (she was sure his were demonic in origin)…

She was ashamed of herself that she hadn't wanted to admit it to herself that she loved him. If he was _human_… well, she still wouldn't have wanted a relationship. Would have wanted to stay a virgin so those types of spells would work better.

She would have settled into a relationship kicking and screaming, damning her female instincts and her goddamn hormones.

She let a hand reach up to touch his face.

Bless him for staying quiet, bless him for understanding her, bless him for waiting for her, bless him for letting her think, bless him for helping her so many times, so many ways, bless him for being him, bless him for loving her.

As it was… she hadn't been really thinking of him as a man. So she'd let him be a friend, and now… "Can you sense anything besides negative emotions?" She hoped… the records either hadn't known or hadn't cared.

"Before Mundus, we did not always feed on hate and fear when we came here. Sometimes, but not often."

"There were devils on earth before Mundus?" Some texts had hinted at it…

He nodded. "With our powers, with our servants… we were as gods. But many of them opposed Mundus, when he decided to conquer your world as well, and rebelled, and were killed. Only a few survived. After the war… so much death."

"I know." And I don't hate you. You're guilty. You shouldn't be. You made up for everything you did, a hundred times over.

She stepped forward, closed the gap, laid her head against his chest and there was indeed a heartbeat. That made her relax even more.

But she'd never been this close to a man, men had raped her sister and were animals, but he wasn't a man, he was better than one, even if he was a devil, and that was a very irrational way to think about it but what had rationality ever done for her?

Well, the decision to trust before all this had been a rational one. Her heart had been I'm-screwed-I'm-screwed, and her head had been, I'm screwed anyway, so why panic? Why not trust him?

And see where that got her? Her head tucked under his chin and his body was warmer than hers: was that because he was a devil or had more body mass and thicker clothing?

Either way, it was nice. He was nice.

And she was here, in his arms, and she still had all her limbs and she'd lost very little blood these last few weeks.

She could feel his arms slowly reaching around her, just as she calmed down, got used to the idea of being here, slow enough not to make her panic instinctively, fast enough she knew he wanted to hold her. She reached her arms around him, inside his, and tucked her head under his chin.

She felt utterly, ridiculously at peace. She closed her eyes, sighing in happiness.

Finally, he kissed her forehead, softly saying, "Open your eyes." She did, turned her head the other way, and the tip of the sun broke over the horizon.

"I never get tired of that," she confided in him. "Back when I was in training, every one else agreed they hated the dawn, because it meant that they'd been up all night fighting, and if the battle didn't end even then, it felt to them like… like the light didn't mean anything, that each day was a Pyrrhic victory. That the dawn reminded them of those who weren't there to see it. That the day had started and was that much closer to ending." She sighed. "I like it, though. I mean, they're right. Just because it's dawn doesn't mean the night is over, just because it's bright doesn't mean darkness isn't everywhere, and all the colors aren't a victory banner."

"It is still beautiful." He murmured into her hair, agreeing with her even before she said the words.

She nodded, feeling her cheek move against the lace at his throat. "Still beautiful. It's just a little thing, but what's wrong with little things? What's wrong with one moment of happiness? Isn't that enough reason to live?"

And they both knew she was saying, we both know this can't work out. We both know we are people who have never had a victory without a loss, who have never had anything come easily and this is far, far too easy, we both know everything ends sometime, we both know a battle is coming, we both know we're doomed.

But we both know we love each other, and the dawn is here and they're gone for now, at least.

And we both know it's nice here, watching it, holding each other, and we both know this is even more right than it is wrong. We both won't say it flat out, we both don't dare jinx it right now, but we both know we love each other, even though everything says we shouldn't.

Except us.

And when have we ever cared for what anyone else thought? "You know, all your high society people will be scandalized if we ever tie the knot."

Sparda chuckled. "I've never done what was expected of me, milady."

Eva chuckled too. "I haven't been conventional in years. I've been doing my best to forget how. Shall we try to scandalize people more? Could be fun."

Sparda smiled as she looked up at him, and there was a hint of a cat contemplating with a tender mouse in that smile. And just as much of a hint in her own smile. "Another wonderful idea, milady."


	10. VIIb Wonderful Journey

Disclaimer: If I owned Devil May Cry, we would get Eva back-story, dammit! Nor do I own the song I took the title from.

Set in my Rapture SxE universe, post-love, pre-marriage. Sparda pov, for once!

Notes: Wilona means hoped for.

Okay, this was written prior to the just posted chapters, and is technically a side-chapter. Some of the speculation this was based on has been proven right by new info in DMC1, 3, and the manga, some, as expected, is incorrect. Sorry, lazy and not going to rewrite. The real (new) chapter 8 will go up on Friday. Please review if you didn't review this when it was up as a seperate story.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

This was… SHE was… simply, simply… indescribable. Well, the word 'perfect' summed it up, well, perfectly, but, well, why?

His makers, 'parents' as they put it… they had been 'in love' as humans put it, rather famously so, but it had been and probably still was nothing like this.

That was a 'love' of battle, for his kind revered the strong, a constant tug of war of mind and soul and strength, of powers that destroyed suns and woven spells to enslave armies, a striving for destruction, a blood-lust so lost in war-glory that he and his twin had sometimes shuddered together in the warm nest and feared that this time one or the other would be lost.

But each and every time the final strike was just slightly weakened, each and every time the loser surrendered instead of struggling to the death, and bared their core for the killing blow, and was spared.

And the battle was for all to see, that others would tremble in fear at their strength, envy their power and glory, be jealous at their possession of such a worthy mate, such a valiant fighter…

But the rest was theirs.

The greatest thing in the worlds was a worthy foe, opposite yet equal, one who forced you to get stronger merely to survive, to strive forever.

The most beautiful thing in the worlds, their parents had told them, was a battle with that one, no matter who was victor, to know, to revel in your strength and the strength that was yours as well…

And SHE was so fragile…

If might makes right, than weakness is wrongness, is unclean, impure. That was why his kind found humans repugnant, why a demon who was without use was destroyed, why they strived for perfection in their creations, both demon-tool and devil-child, why their weapons killed those who dared to try to claim them without the strength to, why a Knight who lost too many battles was executed, a Queen whose spawn perished uselessly was torn apart…

Why his kind, creatures of mind and spirit who fed on emotion, both their own and those of others, wished to make this world a place of misery for humanity, when they could have as easily and as usefully made it a paradise.

Unless the weak were tools, they had no right to exist.

And yet, and yet… he'd seen… they… a child was not a tool. They… there was some odd strength there, he'd seen, yet still, still, did not truly understand.

Rock, paper, scissors.

Not a hierarchy of strength, a _continuum_. His kind, created to be 'rocks.' Single, unbreakable, unstoppable… except by a collection of fragile strands, woven so tightly they acted as one, a blank sheet on which such beauty could exist...

Her soul, the core of herself… she couldn't survive on her own. Maintain a physical form, think, generate power, fight: she wasn't able to do it all with so little raw strength… yet she didn't.

Without her Blue Orbs to heal her, he could kill her with one blow. Yet, he couldn't. It would be… sacrilege, to destroy something so perfect in its intricacy.

SHE was legion.

She was the fragile (by his standards, but unbelievably strong by humans' standards) woman with the skin that darkened when attacked by the sun, paled when attacked by fury, and reddened when attacked by what at first they had not realized the name of, the pale, pale golden hair that tangled so easily, so chaotically unless it was bound, the slight smirk, the sweetly reasonable expression she wore when she was giving you one last chance to undo whatever had angered her before she destroyed you…

She was the fierce hunter who fought that which walked in the night, what even the strongest men did not speak the name of, the irreverent, unnatural woman who shamed them for their weakness and showed them the truth of their illusions.

She was Eva Williams.

She was the one who once was Dolores Wilona Morgan.

She was the face that she showed to the world, and yet there was so much more…

Her memories, her past, her sorrows and joys and decisions and fierce strivings… to do so much with practically nothing… the others did not believe it when humans defeated them.

Her core, her spirit her soul the seed of her self: a fierce nameless thoughtless spark, endlessly young yet endlessly wise, that had first quailed at the sight of his own fire, then known him, nestled against him, let him feed and shield it with such utter _trust_ that it made him ache with joy so strong it hurt…

Her body, not one thing, the eyes not merely a shell, but many in harmony. The brain that held animal instincts and ancient memories of darkness, fears and night terrors and unthinking reactions…

Eyes that were exactly that color and saw those frequencies this way and grabbed him by the arm and showed him some small thing this whole world in a whole new way.

Glands that reacted to situations with chemicals that altered her thinking…

Neurons and electric charges and chemicals and instincts and sensory impressions and a soul that simply was…

Where in all this was SHE? His Eva (she'd hit him for that on principle, although she'd understand and say he was hers too). The bright laughing dark sad one who understood what should have been far beyond her comprehension, who always knew what he was thinking even though humans simply didn't having the processing capability to keep up…

Who played games with touches and words and gestures, who used the mutual resistance of electron fields and the vibrations of air molecules and reflected frequencies of energy to express truths that neither could put into thought yet both knew and knew the other knew, and gloried in it…

The mind that wandered through the halls of his memories, as she'd opened hers to him, and was amazed by the most inconsequential things…

The one who made him feel so much, so greatly, that he wanted to… there wasn't anything that could express this, but until then… she liked coffee in the mornings and a hundred small things…

Sometimes, they'd just hold each other. And she was right, there was this feeling of peace, of stillness, of _rightness_, yet still waters ran the deepest.

It was perfect, and yet, they were driven to find more and more ways it was even more perfect.

She wandered, and touched, and looked, and laughed and sighed and explained, fascinated with the faceted jewel she said he was, a black diamond only she could see inside, except he was far more valuable to be compared to such a minor thing… let's see if she could find a better metaphor, although of course he was HIM and there was nothing that could express that except that.

He… those nerves sent those commands to those muscles to make that smirk. Those types of cells made up that skin… those organelles allowed those cells to function… these specific bits of these chemical chains were copied to make the chemicals to make the chemicals that activated the making of the chemicals that made her eyes that light brown with streaks of green if one looked closely enough, which he liked to do as much as possible.

Self made of mind and soul, mind from brain and body and past, made of organs and cells and chemicals and atoms and protons and quarks and years and days and seconds and an endless infinity of things that were HER. Which petal was the rose?

Was she dancing on a wave or was she herself the wave?

So, so delicate, so intricate, it seemed as though if one thing, one small thing went wrong he would lose her… but she wasn't a chain, she was a chain mail, so if one link broke the rest would hold, and find a way to weave itself together again.

Her people called his place the World of Darkness, the Underworld, Hell deep beneath the earth, and there was truth in that, for there was darkness unless light was made… nothing existed except infinite darkness and what was made to swim in it, demons big as worlds were the castles he knew perfectly, for he could see their cores, their patterns, every aspect of their singular nature, but here, everything was pre-made, raw and unfinished and old and muddled and chaotic.

For what was this 'light,' that was here and not there then and again but raw force, untamed, and unordered? His kind called this the World of Chaos.

He could see every aspect of his self, add to it as he grew, change what failed, but these folk could only see the surface, only change the surface.

And the eyes were beautiful, and he loved them, but so was this little pattern here, a back-up to a back-up to a back-up system of one organ yet in every cell of her perfect body and he could lose himself here, in coding and instinct from when her kind hid as mice from dragons in the dark swamps as she said she could lose herself in his memories, just keep looking and looking, for there would always be more to see…

She loved the colors scarlet and black. They looked horrible on her, the dressmaker he'd taken her to in order to have a ball gown made had rather emphatically stated. She was out in the sun so little that her skin was a pale shade the old great ladies would have envied, his Huntress of the night. With that and her pale gold hair, she looked a ghost in those vivid and dark hues.

Horrible? He'd laughed then, quietly to himself, at his Lady's reaction to the idea of wearing pink, of all abominations.

He rather liked the color: it wasn't a color of weakness, but she said it had been made to be so… she looked beautiful in it, truly, but then she looked beautiful in everything, and it was such a conventional beauty, a soft beauty, in the color rose.

His Lady looked best when one could see her thorns.

She looked a ghost in red and black? A spirit, truly, glowing with a fierce inner light, a star come down from the sky, an angel from Heaven, which she almost made him believe in… but an angel would never love a Devil.

But never dead: more alive than anything else in the worlds.

A diamond glowed best against black velvet. The moon seemed a paltry thing by day, but at night the endless dark sky became a mere backdrop.

By day the sun outshone the stars, made them seem insignificant, unnoticeable, by comparison. Yet without that blinding light an infinity was revealed. Look closely, and you would find many that outshone the sun, in their own realms.

He took her, in that dress, seemingly ancient yet unprecedented, ornate yet practical, to a celebration of the 'greatest' of modern fashion, and they smiled to each other at the plastic as they danced to a modern air a dance as old as time yet invented by both at each note.

She was asked by some of those present if possibly… as Twiggy, her boyish body championed by feminists who embraced the rejection of the idea that a woman to be considered beautiful had to be overweight and sedentary, a large-breasted, large-hipped child-bearer who never stirred outside the home, was becoming so popular… the young woman was on the top of the world, having just won the accolade of a newspaper as the Face of '66, a far cry from being taunted as 'Sticks' and 'Twig,' the name she had embraced in mockery of her classmates who had considered her a unfeminine tomboy.

But she would outshine anything they put her in, and was that not the point of a model? She was far too alive to ever be captured as a still image, his tall and strong Amazon Queen. A dead still photo could never convey her reality.

She turned them down. She had better things to do, she said smiling, looking at him. She had a better person to look at her than nameless fans.

And they left at three and she danced death with him. Not in that dress, of course. But she looked beautiful in anything, and with her guns blazing, each shot instant yet precise… she was ravishing.

None of his kind who laid eyes on his Kali survived. His red and black rose of many petals, many deadly thorns. True love, creating love, the wise lady of death and rebirth…

He'd given her a corsage, a purple rose of enchantment. She'd laughed, she was indeed majestic, but why would he advise caution? She was precisely as cautious as she needed to be.

Though he'd shown her his hands could become claws, she lay so trustingly in his arms. Through she knew his teeth itched to become fangs, she kissed him as hungrily as he her. He wanted to _devour_ her.

He wanted to keep her, all of her, with him, inside him, for the rest of eternity. He'd never felt fear before, but for her… what if one day he wasn't there? She'd handled herself as a hunter for years before, but…

It was a good thing she was so strong willed, for he would do anything for her. Give her everything she wanted, build her a palace she'd never want to leave, smother her with love, and never let her do a thing for herself if she let him. Destroy the independence, the strength that captivated him.

But the will that had captured him ensured he would never capture her, save when she wished to be.

He'd watched the weather until one day he'd come by and dragged her out of bed and tossed her through a portal into a hurricane, and caught her and tossed her again, screaming and laughing and hitting him over the head… and then he'd taken her to his castle for real Swiss hot chocolate at midnight, and the traditional fondue that was starting to become popular elsewhere, and flown her up to untouched slopes and refreshed her memory on how to ski…

And they'd stood on the battlements as the sun rose and she'd complained she was cold. He'd offered to conjure a jacket, but she'd slyly snuggled up next to him and tugged at the back of his coat.

The feel of it, her hands sliding over velvet wings…

This was unprecedented and unnatural and both their peoples would condemn them.

Him for 'seducing' an 'innocent' maiden, her for 'falling for the lies of Evil Incarnate.'

Well, there hadn't been any seduction yet. And innocent? She'd lost that when her sister had been left to rot, by her own kind in service to one of his. He'd found out who. _That_ had been a pleasure.

Lies and truths… they knew. This was the first truth they had ever known for certain. He was indeed in a human body, but Evil? Really.

And he would never let her fall.

Over his dead _body_ would she let fall a single tear. And his kind didn't leave behind bodies if they died. So doubly safe.

Him for getting caught in a spider's web, giving his devotion to an insect, her for daring to think a weak, unclean thing like her was worthy of one whose strength showed him to be so blessed.

She was an arachnid, thank you, not an insect. Quite, quite deadly. And was not a spider's net stronger, weight for weight, than the strongest steel?

And the concept of her drinking his blood was strangely appealing.

Weak? Unclean? How many of their servants had she slain? How many schemes thwarted? And she washed quite often, the scents lingering on her skin, in her hair…

And it was she that proved him to be blessed.

But they would never understand.

_They_ didn't understand. They couldn't even explain it to themselves, bits and pieces yes, but the whole was so far beyond them, they could journey for eternity and never reach it.

He looked forward to it.


	11. VIII Ties that Bind

_Disclaimer: Don't own Devil May Cry. Haven't even owned one Hell Pride._

_Recap of Eva's family: Eva Williams is a pseudonym. Her father is a banker named George Morgan, whose wife died just before Conservation. Eva, originally 'Dolores' ran away to become a hunter after finding out her sister Sarah was killed and raped by cultists: couldn't be a virgin sacrifice if she had already lost her virginity to her fiancée. Toby is her brother, the youngest._

_Edited because I got Morgan and Madison switched here too. I'm horrible with names. _

-

Eva hummed, putting an earring in her ear in front of the mirror. "You know, this is really killing my street rep. As long as we were just probably having an affair, that was all right, but now that we're actually dating! People are thinking the 'Wicked Bitch of the Northeast' is going soft, you realize."

"I'm terribly sorry." Sparda smiled, leaning against the door waiting for her.

"No, you're not," Eva corrected him, turning around to smile back at him.

"That's why I said 'terribly.' I am a devil, after all. I rarely 'do' guilt, milady." He spread his hands and sighed. "And it really isn't merited in this case."

"I'm smiling at people, you realize. And not in an 'I'm about to shoot you and I'm going to have fun doing it' sort of way. In an 'I am in love and therefore love you all' sort of way. It's really creeping people out," she informed him brightly.

"And you are amused by this," Sparda pointed out.

"Oh, hell yeah. And you coming with me on jobs isn't hurting either. They think you're very impressive, and probably Switzerland's equivalent of double-oh-seven, because no way a banker could keep up with me in a fight."

"Switzerland is neutral, which is something I quite approve of. Peace and democracy by being very well armed. The country used to export mercenaries, you know."

"Until the treaty that ended the Napoleonic wars forbade Switzerland to because everyone was afraid of getting a hired army sicced on them, yeah, I know." Eva nodded. "And I wonder how much you had to do with that. The peons being able to defend themselves sounds very you. And I looked it up: yours is the first of the legendary Swiss banks."

Sparda bowed. "I can't take all the credit, but I'm one of the few with titles in that nation. And I still have my lands, but the rents are probably cheaper than they would be otherwise."

"Doing well by doing good?" Eva laughed, putting the little tiara thing in her hair. She didn't like wearing useless things, or rather she felt sort of guilty about it, so the thing was enchanted to become her motorbike helmet in case of the sort of emergency that didn't happen around Sparda or if she decided to go racing. "You're very good at both."

Sparda bowed. "And you are very successful as a Hunter. Most need agents far longer than you did, most don't get their own shop for longer, most need help to protect a city this size…"

"It's still flattery if it's true." She grinned. "But do continue."

Sparda bowed again. "As you wish, milady."

Eva checked her make-up again in the mirror and stood up.

"You look flawed."

She blinked at him. "How is that a compliment?"

Sparda shrugged elaborately. "But, milady, is it not obvious? Consider how few are gems in the first place. That what you are composed of, your native element has withstood and thrived in enough pressure to be called a diamond at all: is that not the greatest compliment to your will?"

Eva laughed, delighted, walking over to him. "Carbon-based life forms… die and are compressed to coal, which change to diamonds under the pressure _and heat_ deep inside the earth… you, sir, are a poet. That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me. It even trumps what I last said that about, this morning. And it wasn't useless flattery like saying I'm flawless."

Sparda shook his head. "No, so many of your flaws have been refined away that it is possible to see the individual remaining ones…"

"Instead of there being so many you can't tell what's flaw and what's pure. I get it." She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "And what are my flaws?"

Sparda ticked them off on his fingers. "Your temper, you have a slight streak of cruelty…"

"But you like my temper."

"And your thorns. Exactly, milady." He held out his hand. "Shall we go?"

"Of course. I've never missed an opportunity to gloat." He took his other hand out from behind him and presented a corsage for her approval. A red rose, a white one, and a mixture of the two. "Red and white means… unity, and unless I miss my guess…" She let him finish the sentence.

"The York and Lancaster rose, named for the War of the Roses, symbolizing, appropriately enough…"

"War." She let him pin it to the dress he'd had made for her. "You really are a poet."

"Oh, I would have to be a fool not to pick up a few things in two thousand years." He tucked the last pin in place. "There… shall we?"

"Let's." She took his arm. "My libber friends are absolutely disgusted, you realize. Not only are you a man, and we're being absurdly traditional about this, but you're a banker. Practically a poster-boy for capitalist pig-dom. And a nobleman. Well! That brings class into it." She sighed theatrically. "They're convinced you're utterly beyond redemption."

They both laughed, then he opened the door for her and let her precede him out. "And they're quite right," she added.

"How so?" He asked, holding out his arm for her again.

"You're well beyond redemption. You redeemed your self ages ago."

"I like to think so."

"I know so. They'd probably actually dislike you more if they knew you chose to be white. That's racism, you know."

"No, actually that would be ethnocentrism. 'Racism' means considering one species to be better than another: humanity is all one race. I do quite like Europe, however. Although I used to visit the Eastern regions often, and of course when in Rome…"

"When in Rome what?"

"Get right out again because it would be dreadfully embarrassing for everyone involved if they tried and failed to exorcise me."

They laughed, garnering stares from the people at the end of the hall.

"So you're not racist?"

"I try not to be."

"Apparently it's essentially impossible not to be. We're conditioned by culture." Eva shrugged, feigning helplessness.

"I must admit I still don't see most humans as equals. I'm trying to overcome a cultural conditioning that leads me to inherently regard you as pets, beasts of burden and/or snack foods. Rather like how the dog is regarded."

"How do most people back from where you're from think of you? Like Abraham Lincoln or an animal rights activist?"

"More like a radical vegetarian, I would say." They had reached the elevator now, and the small group waiting for it. They stood a small distance away, Eva giggling at the concept of him as one of those people who splashed red paint on perfectly good fur coats. It wasn't like that would bring the animal back to life.

She'd held at gunpoint one person who had looked about ready to try that on her leather jacket once, when she was younger.

The elevator arrived and they took it down. The valet quickly brought Sparda's car while she acted like a proper woman. When they were inside and he'd started it up she commented. "I have to learn how to drive a car."

"You don't approve of being a passenger?"

"Absolutely. And why should you have all the fun of driving this thing?" She grinned at him. "You aren't happy with a chauffeur, why should I be?"

He laughed. "I was just about to say, don't think of it as not having control, think of me as your personal driver."

"I do like it when you take me places," she patted him on the shoulder. "But I've never been one to sit back and enjoy the show."

He laughed. "I thought you had rather liked that wildly inaccurate movie about me."

She whapped him lightly on the shoulder. "You still haven't sat down and watched that with me. I want your commentary."

"I'm having a copy of the film reel shipped to my home."

"I can't believe you don't own a copy. I mean, if I was as rich as you, and they made a movie about me, I'd damn well own it. And laugh."

Sparda shrugged. "Not my sense of humor. It's rather galling, actually. There were many who fought bravely, yet they all think that I was the only one who stood up for you, that there were no human heroes save one, who was anything but a helpless sacrifice."

"She did die while you were casting the seal." Eva pointed out.

"That was hardly my fault! As I told you before, I cut my hand for the blood for the seal, and passed the knife to her and told it needed her blood as well. I expected her to simply cut her own palm, not stab herself through the heart! I had to use up one of my resurrection spells." Sparda shook his head.

"And then she yelled at you for doing that? You didn't explain why."

"Yes, because you asked about something else. She was a valiant foe, before, but she never truly recovered after her partner died. Her body must be spinning in the catacombs, that people think _we_ were involved." Sparda shook his head disapprovingly.

"Partner?"

"She served Vesta, the guardian of the hearth fires? They're called Vestal virgins nowadays."

"Right." Eva nodded. "She had a relationship anyways?"

"Well, she usually fought beside another priestess, and they were very close. And the woman was what one might call a 'militant Sapphist.'"

"…oh. Well, that got written out of the legend quick." Eva blinked.

Sparda sighed. "It truly is a shame, that the true heroes of that war are now forgotten. Like Virgilius! He does have a legend, but that he fought in the war against Mundus is not part of it."

"Virgilius… the Roman mage who got a play written about him during the Middle Ages?"

"Most people get him mixed up with the poet. You are very well read, milady."

"I had a sheltered childhood, and my parents thought anything historic was safe for me to read. Is the story about him and the dress on fire true?"

Sparda nodded. "Well, it has been embroidered, and it wasn't all of Rome, but it was based on something I was told happened before the war. He was rather a miscreant before he got married: only escaped execution several times due to his magic. And then the war came, and he held the fire seal over the city, and I killed his wife."

Eva blinked. "Ouch."

"I really didn't understand why he was so angry with me. Fortunes of war. That was when I began to think that maybe you weren't just less intelligent versions of us, like the Nobodies. That what was honorable for us wasn't for you."

"Who do you think are better? Humans or demons?"

"Well, what do you mean by 'better?' We both depend on each other, after all. Light and darkness, as Eastern mystics say… but if I had to choose, I would prefer to stay as I am. To be honest, you people make no sense whatsoever. All your codes are breakable, and you are hypocritical as the _norm_, not the exception. Even the worst of us are honest about what they are." A shadow passed over his eyes. "No one could say they didn't know what would happen when Mundus came to power. The iron fist is not hidden in a velvet glove among our kind."

"You do that." She stroked his sleeve. "You hide what you are. Or no… you don't. You dress as someone old, you dress as a knight, you have the shadow, you have that ridiculous pseudonym: Ritter Lucian von Schwärzung: Light, Dark Knight… you say what you are, you just let us fool ourselves."

He nodded. "Exactly. And yet devils are said to be the liars." He shrugged. "I had a hard time keeping my change of heart a secret before the plans were brought to fruition. The legend says one man against an army… ha! One devil against sentries with no advance warning. Rather unfair, but then it was war."

"I have no problem with unfairness when it's not being used against me." Eva held up her hands.

"Rather hypocritical of you." But he smiled.

"Of course. _I_ never said I was fair."

"And yet you are scrupulously fair. You never once tried to shoot me in the back." They had arrived, and he stopped the car.

"You never tried anything either," she said, as the valet opened her door and she got out.

Sp… Lucian, among others, handed the valet their invitation. "Welcome, sir."

She got no acknowledgement. Of course, she was a woman. Still, it rankled.

Not enough to spoil the evening, though. She was used to it, after all. Another time and place she might have pulled the gun from her purse, but they were being civilized tonight, a couple of alpha predators slumming with the scavengers who thought themselves lions in the urban jungle that was New York, it's towers still scattered with bright lights above them though it was long past sunset.

Light in the darkness, human light under the uncaring heavens and probably there was a metaphor or some great wisdom there and probably she didn't care.

They were going to have _fun _tonight, and many more nights and days to come if she had anything to say about it. And the laws of men and the opinions of gods other than the one standing next to her weren't anything she cared about.

She let him lead her inside, both of them keeping their coats, and they were nodded at over wineglasses, many had arrived early to chat before the dinner as the orchestra played.

Black and white suits and pastel dresses and imperial purple and princely crimson among them.

And either of them could kill everyone in this room within two minutes, bodyguards leaning unobtrusively against the wall or no, but neither of them was going to.

And the people in this room knew they both were dangerous ('private investigator,' and someone who had helped smuggle people out of Germany during the war-they were prime gossip material), and either trusted or didn't really believe they were in any danger from the eccentric gentleman and his lady friend.

Though some of the society ladies were casting envious glances. Rich, and a proper gentleman. Not to mention hot.

Too hot for them to handle, was her black diamond. Hers.

She hid a gloating smile behind a champagne flute of Perrier. Sparda had some burgundy, she didn't care about the vintage. Thick and dark and red as blood. And the shadow was obscured on the floor by those of passersby and the chandelier's own and the tables and chairs they maneuvered between, but if anyone had really looked… once she'd seen someone glance at the ground, clearly taken aback for a second, then shake their head as though to wake themselves up.

Trick of the light.

There weren't any wings there. Now. Maybe later, for her, there would be soft ones. And she would lean against him and they would talk of the day, with silences that said more than anything else. But now, they were in polite society, and it wasn't polite to scare people.

She preferred being impolite, but hated it when people were rude to her. Well, to be fair, she would like to not need to be impolite. So when people were rude to her, she would be rude back. And was that fair?

She didn't really care.

And she was a demon hunter and hated demons and was now contemplating the possibility of sleeping with one. Free love, after all. Make love, not war!

She'd asked, and others had done it. Even had kids. There was a whole tribe of part-bloods on Dumary Island (Sparda had said the islanders themselves preferred it be called Vie du Marii), and they acted as hunters there.

She'd heard the people there were weird but she hadn't heard about _that_. It would have creeped her out before. Now it was making her thoughtful.

But those were thoughts for another time.

They mingled, and people wanted to be seen talking with them, and she went to go get something to drink so Sparda could discuss business and she could be mobbed by young women here with their families who wanted to learn about her.

Impressionable young women. It remained to be seen if the consciousness-raising sessions would bear fruit, but a couple were coming along fine. Nothing like the allure of the exotic, and she was exotic now, wasn't she, even though she'd been one of them only… almost ten years ago. Time really flew, huh.

And she was flying high now. Everything was really so wonderful it was scary.

He was a devil, she was human; he was over two millennia, she wasn't even 26; he had become one of the rich, she had made herself gutter trash and proud of it…

The both hunted demons, they both liked to read (though she hadn't really had the time in years, they liked to talk, but she couldn't believe they had things to talk about at all.

Man, thank goodness for all those boring rainy days spent in the library looking for anything even vaguely interesting.

She'd asked him if since devils were called gods, they knew if there was a god-god, and he'd said they didn't know either, and that had turned into a fascinating philosophy and theology and sociology and psychology conversation about this and that and more tidbits of his history: he'd just done so many things…

She felt totally inadequate when she wasn't with him, but when she was, well. Too busy thinking about fun things to think about useless ones.

He made her feel like she was special, was worthy, and she'd been looking at him lecturing to a circle of nodding heads instead of to her own circle of nodding heads and smiling like crazy for the past five minutes, hadn't she.

Her future feminists were visibly overloading on the romance of it all. Damnit! She'd been trying to convince them there was _more_ to life than relationships! There weren't any guys as good as Lucian out there! What if they realized this and came after him!

…hell, she was jealous and paranoid all of a sudden.

She knew she had to be better than one in a million, for him to be interested in her when he'd never been interested in anybody else, but she didn't feel like it all of the time. Or any of the time.

He was just…

And it was time to get seated for dinner. She walked over to Sparda, who seemed to have cornered tonight's prey.

"Ah, Eva. This is Mr. George Morgan."

"We've met," she said, visibly still annoyed with him, but controlling it.

"I'm terribly sorry, Miss Eva…"

"Ms. Williams, thank you."

"Ms. Williams. Your situation, Sir von Schwärzung explained it to me, was very unusual, and it seemed more like a 'situation' that shamefully is quite common. It was an honest mistake, and I'm very sorry." He bowed.

And when had her father become so small. When had he become just a man, instead of the patriarch, power over her, power that had failed to protect her sister, power that raged at her mother?

Sparda had said her disappearance had brought them closer, at least… she realized she was glad it had done so. He was just a man, just a person, just a human, and didn't she fight for them? Domestic tranquility…

She kept him hanging just a little, for old times' sake. "Mister," she said finally, letting the city accent thicken, "I get a lotta people on the street implyin' things like that, and I do a lotta damage to 'em. A person's good name is money, and I think you know that."

He certainly did. The deal had closed: von Schwärzung wasn't the type to let personal matters harm the interests of his investors, but there were other banks in America he could partner with, and he had made it clear he didn't deal with those without the highest personal reputations when he could avoid it.

And implying the woman rumor said he'd just asked out on their first date was a courtesan wasn't very classy at all.

"I'm very sorry, Mis… Ms. Williams." He tried bowing, it seemed to work for him, after all.

And the nearby tables had filled up with people ostentatiously not listening in (this was a cutthroat business, and whichever way it fell out there was money to be made if money was placed wisely, so he sat down as von Schwärzung pulled out the chair for Eva to sit on.

Now that he looked at her, he could believe she was a private detective. Hard, hard woman. One of those radical feminists. Uncompromising. Leaving him hanging, here.

"Try not to do it again."

And von Schwärzung smiled at her.

Really, they seemed like less of an odd couple now that he was next to him. She was eccentrically modern, and he was eccentrically old-fashioned.

Not that there wasn't something to be said for the old days, and he seemed to think there was something good about the new.

They were people that drew your eye the instant you walked in a room, but that didn't attract a second glance. Easy to underestimate. Sleeping dragons.

"Thank you, Ms. Terribly, terribly sorry."

And why were they laughing at that? They didn't seem to be laughing at him, so he joined in. Friendly-like.

Give the sharks circling something to think about.

He'd failed Sarah, Dolores had been right, his wife had been right, though she seemed to think they'd both failed, when it was his fault. He was the man of the house, it had been his job that things like that didn't happen to his poor daughter.

He didn't want to think about what had happened to Dolores after she ran away. Dead in a ditch, killed by one of those creatures his research had turned up trying to find out what had happened to Sarah and her school friends, creatures that shouldn't exist in a sane world…

And now his wife had died just when he had started to get to know her.

All he had left to look after was the family fortune and his son Toby. Toby who he would let marry whoever he wished, Toby who wouldn't be cursed by the sins of his fathers.

Toby he hoped would be as happy as those two were, despite his failure of a father.


	12. IX Vincit Omnia

Disclaimer: Don't own Devil May Cry. You can tell by the way we don't know if this happened in it or not.

This is the actual Part Nine. There will be 12 formal parts and also sides like Wonderful Journey and Faded Photographs.

'Tis the week before finals-finals and I have a final in the morning after I write this. Please repay my dedication with reviews? Thanks. They make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and that's good when you're trying to write romance.

/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\

New Jersey. The part of New York New York doesn't want to admit exists. Aka Suburbia. The ultimate of conformist consumer culture, a wife and 2.5 kids and a dog and 9 to 5 and baseball games. The radicals she knew all considered it a soul-destroying, individuality-stifling, hell.

Thank whatever for air raid sirens. Everybody was hunkered down under their beds, mostly safe indoors. Something that would be of no use whatsoever in a real nuclear attack, but it was useful now. She'd blasted the lock off someone's door to get inside to use their phone to call the guys who controlled it.

And to call for backup. They weren't that tough, but there were so damn many of them.

A nice little beachfront town in New Jersey. Cookie cutter houses and sand dunes and one of the towers they'd built to watch along the coast for German subs sneaking saboteurs into the country.

A tower that had been occupied. They were all supposed to be abandoned, so some mobster's underling had decided to sneak in to use it to stash merch, and run out screaming that it was full of spiders and scorpions.

He'd taken some others with him during the day, hoping to set a fire inside the place so they could use it. A couple of them had escaped, one with an arm burnt off.

This was where the Phantom that had been sent after her had laired. The place was crawling, literally, with its spawn. Thousands of them.

It was a dry summer and fires were being started all over the place, you could track where the edge of the expanding area they covered was by the fires.

Some of them were only a few inches across, but others were as big as two feet. How long had it been in this world? Who had been keeping it fed?

Questions for later.

They fought back to back along the northern edge of the expansion, trying to kill them before they sought shelter in the houses. IF one went inside a house… this would probably be explained as a fire caused by old munitions no one had realized were still in the tower… she'd blown up the tower first thing, to kill as many of them as possible. How could there possibly have been this many!

She'd come at dusk and it was now only about an hour until dawn, and she was tired. She'd had to keep moving constantly, and even with blue orbs there was only so much endurance in a human body. She'd been running along the edges trying to keep them enclosed… her knee buckled and she fell back against Sparda's back. He holstered one of his guns in an instant and wrapped an arm around her to hold her up. "Are you all right, Milady?"

"What a stupid question," she responded, holding back a sigh of relief as he took almost all her weight off her legs. "I'm tired as hell, and cranky, and wondering how many people must have been fed to those things after we took out their daddy, or mommy, or whatever. It's been well over a year."

"I'm sorry, Milady."

"Don't you start with me. It wasn't your fault he acted like that." There wasn't anyone else here on this edge of the fight with them. "You've done more for humanity than he ever will." She'd greeted someone she'd remembered from training with relief.

He'd just refused to look at her and turned away. His partner, an older man, had his guns out and was visibly restraining words expressing his contempt for her.

The devil's whore.

_She_ hadn't heard any gossip, but then no one was talking to her, except with the information all hunters got. So many new types of demons, they had to pool their information as soon as they got it. But she could easily, oh so easily, guess what the gossip was.

She couldn't really blame them: she would have felt the same. And yet, she did blame them, blame herself.

She methodically blasted away at the ones that got in range along this clear stretch of shore, over a mile away she could just make out some people on the other side of it. Probably exhausted like her. The fresh ones would be fighting among the houses. She could hear shots and explosions even over the air raid siren: the people in the houses must really think World War III was breaking out.

"Even if we broke up now, I'd still be 'tainted,' and I don't want to break up with you. Ever." She tossed one of her last grenades at a likely looking clump. Boom! Sparda picked off the ones on the edges-he was taking left, she was taking right.

Then she replayed what she had just said. "I meant it, I don't care what they think. Everyone probably thinks we're doing it like rabbits. …and I also meant the part about not wanting to break up, ever."

This was a weird conversation to be having over gunfire. With wildfires instead of candles lighting up the night, and a sky so choked with smoke it was impossible to see the stars.

A beach at night was supposed to be romantic, not a slaughter raging out of control. "You should go. You can do a lot more than just hold me up. I'm sure no one will shoot at you." Everyone had been briefed about Sparda when he'd settled so long in this area. So everyone knew about her.

"Most likely I would be more effective elsewhere, yes." But he didn't move, just kept firing one of his guns, hand almost a blur as he switched from target to target. "But you can't possibly handle all of these yourself." And there wasn't anyone able to reinforce her here, even if they were willing.

"You're staying, then?" That meant innocents would die, she realized dispassionately. It wasn't the ones along the coast here that were the immediate threat: it was those in among the houses. Melting through walls, hungry babies looking for helpless prey.

But if he left she would probably die.

"Yes."

"…"

They kept firing.

"I mean, you're going to have to leave sometime. I am going to die eventually, you know." Hunters lived longer than normal if they didn't die in the field, but eventually… no one lived forever.

"So I will stay until then. And there are ways to extend life."

Other devils had had human lovers before Mundus' takeover, he had told her. They must have worked something out. But… "I'm not sure about that." She wanted to stay human. She'd seen too many people trying to become demons and driven mad by it.

"…I will respect your decision, though I hope it will be changed eventually." The lights of the fires were reflected in his eyes, red and red orange. Not that she was studying them, no. She was pulling her own weight and shooting as many of them as she could, even though her arms were long past tired and she was using her lightest guns, which had bad range.

"We're not going to fall out of love, are we." It wasn't a question.

"After over two millennia, I would hope I know my own heart and soul, Milady." His voice was soft, she had had to pay attention to hear it over the shots, even though his mouth was only a foot or less from her ear.

"I'm only twenty-seven, and I've seen a lot of bad break-ups, a lot of men beating their wives, a lot of heartache, and I know this isn't like that. Or at least, I have to believe it isn't. I have faith in you, you know." A smile curved her lips.

"I know, Milady." He turned slightly to kiss her hair.

"It's really unfair. You can tell everything I feel, feed on it even. That must be incredible. And unfair."

"I won't make the offer, Milady." Not now, she knew.

"You'll make it later, for me to become a demon. When I'm dying." She shook her head. "I know they're not all ravenous monsters, but… call it a lingering prejudice. I do love you, though."

"I know, Milady."

"Cheat." She laughed. "Anyway, this is utterly demeaning. I can't stand on my own two feet, I need a man to support me. You keep saving my life, and what can I ever do in exchange for you?"

"You know it is worth it, Milady."

There was light on the horizon, and they were still coming. "After this, they're going to look into that tower and find there's a whole complex of tunnels dug out beneath it. Right here in a peaceful place like this. The front line is everywhere, isn't it?"

In the end… would she be able to leave him alone? They already looked at her as though she was a demon, a traitor to humanity, somehow worse that a sorcerer because she had once been one of them.

"No city was without its wards when Mundus attacked, layers upon layers of protections. And they fell, one after another, as their Gods or human defenders were killed. The modern world does not even have that, and now that there are so many of you to feed on, is an even more tempting prize. I am sure those who thought Mundus' desire to conquer before was nonsense will be more willing to lend him their forces now."

"A ripe plum just hanging on the branch, huh. Juicy and easy to snatch. They say the world population's just going to keep rising, that we'll all be starving to death in a few decades."

"I doubt that."

She shrugged. "I want you to stay with me. It's something utterly wrong, to love you when I refuse to sacrifice my nature for you…"

"Do not say that, Milady. I love your nature, I love your will."

"I'm such a helpless little thing right now. You wouldn't even have to snap my neck, you could just leave me here and I'd be gone in the blink of an eye. Even if you stay with me, I'll be gone in the blink of an eye to someone who's lived two thousand years." She coughed as ash flew up her nose.

He holstered his gun and ripped a piece of lace off of his cravat. "Hold this over your face, you should be able to see through it."

"Thank you." And that took one of her hands out of action, one of her guns with it.

"You're welcome."

"Till death do us part." There, she'd said it.

"I said, before, when you asked how serious I was about this, remember?"

"You said if we were any more serious, they would be calling me Lady Eva. I don't want that."

"Why not?"

She was pretty sure they were thinning out now. "I'd be your wife then, have your last name… I wouldn't be Eva Williams, I'd be Dame Eva von Schwärzung. It's a fake name, but it's mine. More mine than my father's name. I don't want to give up who I am."

"You could, theoretically, keep your maiden name."

"Oh please, like anyone would address me by it. You know, in China the word for wife is written with the combination of woman and slave? It would be Mr. and Mrs. von Schwärzung. I'd be your trophy bride, people would wonder if I blackmailed you into marrying me, there'd be gossip about how I'm a fraction of your age, even if they wouldn't know exactly how small a fraction. People don't talk about a mistress around people who'd object to that, and at least some people think we're respectable, or at least I hope so, but…" her thoughts were getting disorganized.

"I would not care, Milady."

"I know you wouldn't. You play respectable and conventional, but like you said, if you even cared what your own kind thought of you… you'd rub me in their faces. And I would want to be rubbed in their faces."

She sighed. "I wish we had fallen out of love. This really can't work out. We're too different. I keep waiting for something to happen, and it'll be bad, I just know it will."

"You fear that because you don't want to lose this."

"I know. I love you too much." And they were silent for a while.

Really… she did love him. And she was happy with him now. Taking it further… but he was so beautiful. Strangely beautiful even when he was inhuman, when she could see the claws she sometimes had nightmares of. Only sometimes.

If he were human… well, by now she would have screwed her virginity and the spells that required it and jumped his bones. No one lives forever.

But once she did that… what if he… lost control? She didn't think he'd ever forgive himself if he killed her. And he was already carrying so much unnecessary guilt.

Cooling black lava was almost covering the white sands by now.

The dawn was here now, and it was almost over, but not quite. She was only picking off a few now, some behind them as they tried to flee from inland. The explosions and shots were becoming fewer and fewer. They were winning.

Until the next attack.

She shouldn't be holding back just because he was inhuman. That was unfair of her.

"What would you want to happen?"

"Whatever you wanted, Milady."

"And if I wanted what you wanted?"

"I… have lands, wealth, powers. I would share them with you, present you with the fruits of my combats and strength. I would spar with you, not for victory but for the glory of it. All the world would know that we are each other's, our souls and minds and bodies, our children would be strong and beautiful and grow up in a safe world…"

"Children. They'd never stand for that. Not for you breeding." She felt a chill.

"I would stand against the world, if you wished it."

She laughed as she fired. "And you would probably win. But I wouldn't deserve it."

"You would."

"I suppose I'll take your word for it, your judgment's certainly better than mine."

"Age and wisdom? Overrated. Mundus was a fierce young prince, and our realm fell to his guile."

"You said since he was defeated he lost a lot of face?"

"Defeated by humans and one he considered merely a tool, one of his most trusted servants, yes. From what I have gathered, when my seal bound him he did not stay uninjured for long."

"But he's coming back."

"…yes, Milady."

"Maybe you won't outlive me by very long." Another chill in her blood, though the air was almost boiling still. She laughed. "Who am I kidding. You'll avenge me spectacularly."

She looked around. "I think we can go now. I found this mess, they can do the mopping up. I think I'll give them the money, they'll need it." She wasn't spending money on food or shelter or equipment. Better weapons and more of them than she'd ever had.

Much better than flowers or chocolates, though she got those too. And books, useful ones, and…

"I would bathe the world in the blood of anyone who dared harm you, Milady."

And she knew he was serious. Just because he'd decided to be honorable by human standards didn't mean he wasn't still a demon. He had sealed his powers… but not all of them. And he chose to be kind, he didn't have to.

He would kill any hunter who tried to kill her.

She could guess some of them were thinking about it. What if… paranoid fantasies: sorcerers were used to Byzantine plots and hunters had to think like them.

What if Sparda had had some reason to save earth? If he'd done it not for humans but out of enmity of Mundus? What if for some reason he'd waited two thousand years to find little ol' her and breed up an army?

Logic said he could be trusted, his record did, meeting him did.

People weren't rational. Not when they were angry and afraid. Or vengeful.

"I know you would, Sparda, I know you would. And I probably shouldn't be finding it as sweet as I do. You really know how to flatter a girl. And I refuse to get down on my knee, especially with my knees like this. I think I've run several marathons… last night. The sun was well up by now. "Carry me home?"

He holstered Luce and easily lifted her into his arms.

"…Sparda, carrying me bridal style? I haven't said anything yet."

"Should I get down on one knee, Milady?" He smiled down at her.

"That's really not fair. You can probably taste I've made up my mind." She grinned and took off his monocle.

He shook his head. "It's nowhere near that precise. I'm not a telepath after all and you control your emotions very well. I can only taste them when you feel something very strongly."

"I want a comfy couch. Now." It amazed her that he let her get away with casually ordering him around when he could tear her apart in an instant.

Well, he was her Knight, after all. He'd said so himself. That made her the helpless lady fair, an idea she quite detested. She wanted to be a warrior Queen, like Boudicca.

He carried her though a portal to his home, which was in the Alps and looked like Dracula's castle. What was it with him and truth in advertising? Not that she was complaining.

He set her down and blurred, she could tell he'd done that thing where he moved much faster than everything around him, called it the Quicksilver technique. Very scary ability, he could dodge bullets as it was.

Apparently it couldn't be done without demonic power in your body. One more thing weak humans couldn't do.

But he used it to bring her hot chocolate and a blanket, so all was forgiven. And set a fire in the fireplace. "You cook, you kick ass… you're hot as hell, pun intended." She took a sip of the hot chocolate. "You're utterly perfect, you know that?"

He smiled and sketched a bow. Of course he knew.

"How many women would kill to be me?" she asked rhetorically. "I mean, you've had tons of women throw themselves at you. Okay, most of them would have run screaming from the real you, but you could have hidden yourself from them. You've been a Paladin for two thousand years, traveling around the world saving it and keeping yourself pure and aloof… and now me. I know I'm special, but that's really…"

"You're enthralling, Milady. I have met some women warriors with your dedication, but none of them have ever accepted me. The combination of sharp mind and strength… justice and passion… even your weaknesses do not disgust me."

"We're like… hairless babies. Helpless, and demons despise the weak." She got a marshmallow with that sip.

"You said, if I wanted anything, you'd want everyone to know we were a couple. So, you want to marry me." She looked at him, poker faced.

"Yes, I would."

"Well… I suppose we could get a civil union. I mean, they think you're a man. I'm not having a church ceremony, I'm an atheist. If I don't believe in a god then I shouldn't get the perks. Well, I do believe in you, and you're enough of a god for those islanders to consider you one, but that doesn't really count."

"I certainly dislike being worshiped. I need to perform enough miracles as it is, and I certainly can't do anything about colds or rain or other such things."

"God, I can't believe I'm going to do this… God, I can't believe I just said God."

"You could pretend you were talking to me, Milady." A smile.

"Great idea, I'll do that." She nodded. "I want you stuck in human form the night after the ceremony, so you don't get excited and rip my breasts off. I don't have an exoskeleton."

"I'll have gold and blue orbs stocked up."

"Should we have the ceremony here in Switzerland or in the US. Wait a minute, who says we need a ceremony? We probably shouldn't draw people's attention to this Unholy Matrimony any more than necessary… screw that. We're having one of those really big ones with like 500 people and a ten-story cake and fancy invitations. We'll invite all the hunters and register at… where would we register? You already have everything."

"We could ask for donations to some charity we create and give the proceeds to the hunters."

"That's really, really wicked. And we could put that in the invites to them. No coming, no money." She laughed and stretched. "I am completely wiped."

"Do you want me to take you to your shop?" He'd arranged for her to get another one, and layered it with wards.

"No, I'm damn comfortable here. We'll have to invite your businesspeople too. So the hunters would be around normal people and have to be on good behavior."

"Matier will probably insist on performing the ceremony."

"She can, I like her. As long as it's not in the name of Argosax, or… no, they call him Despaia, right?"

"The Romans called her Aurora."

"…Goddess of the Dawn: you people got around back then."

"Some of the Guardians of Vie du Marii are descendants of her and human lovers, the others of other Gods."

"So she got around literally." Eva laughed. "And had a sex change."

Sparda laughed.

"I know, your gender really has no relationship to ours unless you make it that way. So… I'm not heterosexual, then. Or am I? You look like a male."

"An attractive one, I hope."

"You know you are." Eva yawned. "Good night. My knight."

"Good night, milady." He walked over and kissed her on the forehead as she snuggled into the couch, already having removed her gun belt and let it clatter to the floor as too uncomfortable to sleep in. She could have asked for a guest room, but that would have involved moving, or at least being moved.

She also could have asked him to go away, but she didn't, so he stayed with her through the day.


	13. IXb Agape

_Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry. _

_This is partly in celebration of the DMC novel coming out ahead of schedule (I might have it by the time this is posted)._

_Plotbunny from Nemi. Eva meeting someone Sparda has saved. _

_This was written on 5/31/06, or at least started then. Goodness knows when it will get finished._

-

It enrages her, how he saved them all not once, but hundreds of times over millennia, and they still don't trust him because of what he is. Of course, she knows that she used to not trust him. So she gets angry at herself as well.

So it's gratifying when so many people RSVP for the wedding.

Not just the hunters: they're coming because it's a mission. Because Mundus' generals are hunting them down one by one and this is a chance to take the offensive and stop the war of attrition. Just coming is as trusting as they're going to be. Immortality and power are two things humans crave enough to give up their souls, and hunters have to be professional paranoids because anyone can be corrupted.

Not to mention that marriage raises the possibility of children.

Children. They have to think about that. It's a big decision, but one that can wait years.

What can't wait are the wedding preparations. Wedding. She feels giddy just thinking about it, like a love struck child, what is she going to be like on the day itself?

The smile on her lips is augmented by the calls and letters that say, of course we'll come, we're happy for you, best wishes to our savior the dark knight. People that Sparda has helped. Who says gratitude is dead?

It isn't dead. This feisty old woman is very much alive.

Eva liked Matier the moment she met her. Sparda had answered the door: they were staying at a suite of the resort they had met at until the wedding, which was going to be held here.

Eva had been reading another letter, this one from a rabbi who Sparda had helped smuggle to safety during World War II. He'd told her he had done that but she wanted to hear those stories. Would he ever run out of amazing stories to tell her? She was making a mental note to ask him about it one of these days (after all, more important things to think about right now) when she heard him greet the knocker as, "Matier. It is a pleasure." She heard him click his heels and could almost see him bowing slightly, formally, in respect.

So Matier had arrived! Oh good, she had to talk to her. Matier was going to be performing the ceremony, after all. Had to rehearse with her. Also, Eva had never met a half-breed, or part-breed, and since there was a good chance she would be raising several she wanted some idea what she was getting into.

"Eva," Sparda turned to her as she put down the letter and turned around, "Matier is here. Matier, this is Eva, my fiancée." He indicated her with a sweeping gesture.

"I am pleased to meet the woman who has been found worthy of the great Sparda." Matier's wrinkled face nodded in greeting.

"I'm happy to meet you too, he's told me so much about you," Eva replied, smiling.

Matier was old. Sparda was, they estimated, about four thousand (they didn't have years in the Underworld) and Matier was only around four hundred, but she was old. Very old. Sparda said that most of his kind that had children with mortals made sure those children would never be strong enough to challenge them, weaker demons instead of great devils. Sparda had said he would not do that to their children.

He had no wish to outlive his offspring as they all would outlive her.

She didn't want him to mourn her, but what choice did she have? Besides becoming part devil herself, but… that was what sorcerers did. There were some things she couldn't do, even if she'd been exposed to enough demonic energy over the years some of the stronger wards felt a little uncomfortable on her skin. Occupational hazard. Like working in a nuclear power plant, only with the uranium actively trying to escape containment and coming after you with scythes or the sharp things of its choice.

Matier chuckled. "That is a disappointment. I had hoped to be respected for my age, not be thought a fool for what I did in my younger days."

"Younger days?" Eva glanced at Sparda, who looked a little reluctant. "Don't worry, he didn't tell me any embarrassing stories about you."

Matier spotted a chair and headed for it. "Then he has not told you much at all."

"He told my you fought beside him against a sorcerer and that you are the High Priestess of the Guardian Clan and the whole island of Vie du Marli." She'd heard rumors that Vie du Marli was inhabited by demon worshippers, but she hadn't paid much attention back when she was a normal huntress. She knew her limits, and they were New York's city limits. Well, she had ranged around the boonies a little, that was how she had met Sparda here. But an island on the other side of another continent? Unless the end of the world started there it wasn't her problem. She had her own demons to worry about. "That you made him promise that if he ever got married he would let you perform the ceremony."

She chuckled again. "If he ever married. I did not think he would. After all, he had no interest in me. She must be a very impressive huntress," she addressed Sparda, "to be found worthy of you."

Sparda waved off the compliment of him but not the compliment of Eva. "She is… exceptional." He and Eva smiled at each other and Matier sighed.

"High praise indeed for someone who has seen two millennia of human and Guardian warriors." She nodded judiciously at Eva.

"I personally think he's nuts," Eva confided in her. "I tried to argue and annoy him out of it, really I did." Matier seemed like a very nice old woman. She didn't have red eyes or any visible signs of otherness. Nor did she seem crazy, like most sorcerers became.

"Those with the blood of the devils feel that the thorns are the most beautiful part of the rose. Standing up to the great Sparda? Trying to prevent what centuries of young women have dreamed of for his sake? No wonder you entrapped him." Matier nodded. "You must be very bored of people worshipping the ground you walk on, Sparda."

He shrugged but clearly agreed.

"Worshipping the ground he walks on?" Eva asked. He had mentioned that the islanders regarded him as a friend despite the fact he had helped try to wipe out their ancestors when he was one of Mundus' commanders, but this sounded more than friendship. Or was it just the impressionable young women?

She remembered when she'd first seen him. She'd been impressed enough she'd taken a moment out of a job to admire.

Good thing she had, or she wouldn't have seen that shadow of his, and they would have gone their separate ways like ships passing in the night. Now, the memory of shooting at him embarrassed her, but it had been a good thing, really. Otherwise they wouldn't be here now, and she would be dead, probably. She might have been able to take out the Phantom, but she wasn't sure, even though hunters had the confidence of fighter pilots. Something else would have gotten her as something had gotten so many hunters.

At best she would be alive and alone.

Her reaction to Sparda that night had interested him enough he had sought her out again. She would have thanked her lucky stars if she believed in anything but Murphy's Law.

But then… something seemed to be smiling on the two of them.

She felt the familiar pang of experienced paranoia. Nothing this good can last.

But she'd wring every drop of happiness she could from this, for her and her love.

"By the traditions of my people," Matier told her, "your future husband is a god, and one very worthy of worship for the miracles he has granted humanity."

Eva blinked. "Miracles?"

"His defeat of the Dark Emperor Mundus, who sought to kill all that stood in the way of his quest to rule both realms and drown this world in darkness, and of other gods and mortals who have threatened our people," Matier told her. "He is a very powerful god."

"Are there any temples to him?" Eva grinned at Sparda. This, now this was prime teasing material. Also, it was nice that there were people who were properly grateful. She wanted to hear all about this.

"Yes, one of the temples where we keep the Arcana, our sacred relics given to us by the gods, is dedicated to him. There is a statue of Mundus there, to show what the world would worship if not for him, and other things." Matier nodded.

"I'll have to go there someday." And take lots and lots of photos. And give an offering or something. Women were supposed to worship their husbands, right? This would be a lot of fun. Maybe they could go on the world tour after the honeymoon. Wait a minute. "Is there a problem?" Matier looked like there was.

"Our island is… despite the best efforts of the Protector and the rest of our Guardian clan, there are constant threats from those who want to turn our land into a demon's paradise." Matier shook her head sadly. "It is as it was before Mundus launched his full-scale attack. There are sorcerers seeking to gain power and demons seeking a foothold in our realm through the rituals we do in honor of the gods."

"Rituals?"

"The rituals of Vie du Marli are not like those of the Catholic Church," Sparda, who had been staying silent in self-defense, explained. "There is true power there. Portals are opened to give offerings to the gods that survived Mundus' war and still favor humanity."

"They open portals?" Eva said, shocked. There was a whole island where people opened portals to the Underworld like… like Sunday service while the rest of the world went crazy trying to keep them from being opened because of what came through?

They must really trust those gods.

"Yes." Matier nodded. "We still honor the true gods in the old ways. But… for our people, the power of the gods is not myth, but as real as your electricity. So many are tempted to take that power for themselves."

"Yeah… I mean, if you don't know it exists you're not going to try to get it." Maybe that was part of the reason that when the scientific age started people put a lot of effort into lumping demons into the category of superstitious nonsense.

Besides the fact that if people knew what was on just the other side of the fabric of reality they would live in fear, and that would make humans even more tempting prey to the demons.

"For us, to deny the existence of the gods is to deny the existence of the sun. Your outlanders and your false gods… our people fled to our island to escape persecution."

"The Catholic Church? Yeah, they would have been rough on pagans, especially 'devil worshippers.'" Eva sympathized.

But her guess was incorrect. "Not solely them, it was the followers of the prophet Muhammad that forced us to flee our homes. Luckily there had been northern barbarians in the pay of the empire, so we fled to their homeland and used their ships to seek our new home. Many of them came with us so they could worship their own gods. They were the ones who fled the Roman church. Their blood is why many of our people have red hair."

"Oh." Once again, Eva realized just how much she didn't know. Especially compared to Sparda, who had spent two millennia touring the world. He'd been there for a lot of history.

She'd read a lot as a child despite her parents' disapproval, but after she'd become a hunter there hadn't been time for that. "So you've known Sparda since he came to Earth?"

"Not I, I am a babe compared to him, even though my people live longer than those without the blood of the gods, or you outlanders would say devils." This clearly amused Matier.

"I meant your people. Yeah, I guess it's all a matter of perspective, huh. I mean, Mundus called himself a god, but he's the real-life basis of the Christian devil. There wasn't any devil early on, it was all god, and the serpent was a serpent, not an avatar." She'd actually read the bible, before, and there was a lot of stuff that was common knowledge among hunters.

"That is true. It was after Mundus came that the worship of false gods began to spread, for people felt the true gods had betrayed them by allowing Mundus to spread his evil. They did not remember that many gods fell in their defense, and that it was a god that saved us all in the end."

"Hardly a god, Matier," Sparda demurred.

"Your denial does not make you any less of a god, dark knight." This was apparently an old argument.

"You're so humble, Sparda," Eva commented. "I mean, if people wanted to worship me, I'd be all for that."

"If you became one of my kind, than you would be a god in Matier's people's eyes," Sparda informed her.

"…not _all_ for it, then." Sorcerers wanted to be worshipped. "But save people, be given shiny stuff in thanks-or nice rolls of green stuff-that's how hunters work." She laughed. "Everything's all about the money. Even offerings to gods. Do the work, get paid. No wonder communism won't work. The human race is inherently commercial."

Sparda nodded. "It is one of the more foolish experiments of your kind. Humans evolved to conserve energy: you do not do anything without a reason. In the communist system, everything you want is provided to you whatever you do, so there is no reason to do anything besides take what is given to you. There is no incentive to work hard."

"That's absolutely right, Sparda." He was really smart, wasn't he. Smarter than her. "Besides, you have to have a totalitarian government as a step before 'true' communism, and no one's willing to give up power. I used to have arguments with some of the true believers." She'd done a lot of hanging out in bars, even if all she'd gotten when waiting for contacts was overpriced sodas. She was almost paranoid about her reflexes being dulled even the slightest bit, but then, it wasn't paranoia if they really were out to get you.

Emotions ran high in bars: alcohol intensified what you were already feeling. So demons were attracted to them.

"We have had followers of communism come to our island and try to convince us to follow their ways. But even worse are the Americans, who try to turn us into a colony in all but name as they do the rest of South America. This Cold War is a war for hearts and minds, and they refuse to see that we do not care for either side."

"Must be annoying."

"Oh, we are strong enough to defend our island, although there was diplomatic difficulty when a guerilla band tried to use us as a refuge. We sorted it out after we hunted them down and made them understand that our island belongs to us and the gods." Matier looked satisfied at the thought. "But enough of us."

"Go on, I want to learn about you. I mean, the Guardian Clan is the only culture like you on the world."

"The only clan of half-breeds, you mean. The only people like you and your children might become." Canny old woman.

"Yes," Eva acknowledged she was right.

"I brought my second daughter, the Protector, and others of our warriors to aid you in the battle, dark knight and lady."

So she would get to see several of them, not just Matier. "That's great. The more the merrier."

"Your second daughter?" Sparda asked, concerned. "What of your eldest?"

"Fallen in battle." Matier sighed.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"This is a war, dark knight. We have faith you will save us again, but in a war there are deaths. We do not blame you."

"Your island is the best protected place on Earth thanks to your people. I cannot go there when I am needed more elsewhere."

Eva knew Sparda staying in New York with her meant he wasn't in other places helping other people. Nothing major had happened yet because of it, but… surely there were lives he would have saved if he had been there. He barely needed to sleep, so he could go battle while she rested, but… He also felt a responsibility to the bank's investors, and they took up more time.

His time was so valuable, sometimes she felt it was wasted on her.

But no, she made him happy, and that to her was the most valuable thing of all. So, so selfish of her to think that, but love was selfish, she'd learned that.

If she didn't love him so much she would have run away from him when she knew he wanted her, a devil lusted after her. She'd wanted his love more than her life. Suicide was a sin.

"We understand. We are not your chosen people, all of humanity is. You do what you can, and we are grateful." Matier bowed her head. "Which is why the news you have found a wife has brought such joy to our land. There will be a festival in your honor, and in celebration of the victory that will be won that day."

"Can you take pictures and send them?" Eva asked eagerly. "I'm going to make a scrapbook, we've got professional photographers and I want someone to take photos during the battle…"

"Yes, my child," Matier agreed, smiling indulgently

"Child?" Eva raised an eyebrow.

Sparda laughed. "She is indeed only a fraction of my age. Many consider me a dirty old man, and they think I am only twice her age."

"I'm his trophy bride. The trophies are from shooting competitions," Eva informed Matier, grinning at Sparda. "But yeah, I'm the baby here." And she wouldn't grow old enough to be counted an adult, by their terms, ever.

"You are my baby," Sparda agreed, taking her hand and kissing it.

Eva laughed. "You, calling me baby… Priceless!"

"Ah, young love."

Sparda's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Young?"

"You will be young and beautiful long after my soul returns to the gods," Matier reminded him. "That is the way of the gods. We who only bear traces of their blood are still mortal. So yes, I am older than you, for you do not know what it is to be old, to be forced to retire from the battlefield and let children fight for you."

Children. Fighting.

No, Sparda would protect them. If, of course, they had children.

Children who would look up to their father, adore him, look just like him… well, some girls too. Sparda would look beautiful as a woman. She should ask him to shapeshift into one so she could take pictures… on the honeymoon. They could try a few things… man, she was still a virgin and she had a dirty, dirty mind. Came from hanging around with the wrong element.

But Matier was right. Sparda was… no, not young. Ageless. But he said he had been young, as his people counted it, when he had joined Mundus. Young and clear-eyed, to see past prejudices, to see humans had value besides as food.

Matier's people had the right of it. He deserved to be worshipped.

Not just by them, by the whole world. He deserved at least as much recognition as Jesus: he had, after all, rescued humanity from hell.

The sword instead of the cross…

Idle thoughts. Idle hands did the devil's work.

Idly running her fingers through his hair…

Still, Sparda wanted humans to be strong and free. He probably felt that kneeling was a waste of time that could be spent learning to become more.

Still, their marriage was going to be blessed by a god, even if it would be cursed by another. Sparda was the source of everything wonderful that had happened to her.

"Your life is brief but still valuable, Matier. You have grown much and become very wise: a good leader to your people."

"I was a silly girl when you saved my life."

Eva wondered what made the difference between one silly girl and another. What had made Sparda choose her.

"I was a young fool when I slaughtered your people's warriors and the humans they protected. We do not have to be what we first become." He squeezed Eva's hand.

Little girl who had had a crush on a character in a movie. Avenger filled with hatred. Now?

Soon she would be a bride.

"You're right, Sparda." Who knew what the future would bring?

She only knew she adored him.

"Well, I should see to the preparations. It has been good to see you again, Sparda, and meet you, bride of Sparda." Matier pushed herself up.

Eva giggled. That sounded like 'Bride of Frankenstein.'

Smart old woman, to leave the two lovebirds alone. Although she had to be ragingly jealous. No, she was old enough to accept fate. Or, at least, whatever gross miscarriage of it had made Sparda hers, instead of the husband of one at least part of his own kind, one whose culture worshipped what he was instead of hated.

They bid Matier goodbye and when the door closed he tugged her up out of her chair and into his arms.

Getting down on her knees and worshipping him would put her mouth at about the right height… ooh, pretty dirty thoughts.

Soon they would be married and she could make more dreams come true.


	14. X Empty Ceremony

Disclaimer: See, I'm a Sparda/Eva fan. If I was running how they did Devil May Cry, there would be more details about their relationship. There are a lot of hints, but no details. Hence I'm having to extrapolate my own details and write this fic. If I owned it, therefore I wouldn't be writing this, as there would be an OAV or something instead. So I don't own it.

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She'd actually had more idea about how to plan one of these than Sparda, thanks to protocol lessons and listening to her sister gush about how she was going to make sure that every single detail of her own wedding would be perfect.

Where to hold it had been simple: the resort in Upstate New York where they had first met. They wanted to hold it outdoors as a practical matter, and they wanted to do this right, so that meant next summer for both time to plan and decent weather.

They'd settled on June 6th, 6/6/69. It was just too appropriate to pass up. Sparda was actually the one to suggest it, as they discussed the date in her new office with papers lying everywhere. She'd laughed like crazy once she'd gotten the joke. It made her smile, the division between his mild-mannered outside and the person within.

Despite its pagan status, Vie du Marii was one of the few countries in South America without either a Communist government or a US puppet one, so the State Department was trying to curry favor. Getting such an important person as the head of the Guardian Clan and its various religions the ability to perform a marriage legally binding in the US was made incredibly simple.

Matier was an interesting person. She didn't seem part-demon any more than Sparda seemed to be a full one, at least on the surface.

She was centuries old, and looked it, although she was clearly a tough old bird. Eva rather liked her, once she managed to stomp her lingering prejudices down firmly.

Eva had taken care of shoring up her fictional identity (it would have been much simpler for Sparda to do it, but she didn't want to be completely dependant), and they would hyphenate their last names.

Invitations were issued, she held still while dressmakers assembled a black and red confection that they made sure she would be able to move in, a fake charity was established, the Redgraves strong-armed most of the Northeastern seaboard into coming, other hunters from all over the world RVSPed, some expected, some not.

It made Eva smile, that people besides her knew what Sparda was and still respected him, respected what he had done, to show up at such an important event to him out of thanks. Although there were of course other reasons they would come…

Seating arrangements were strategized over, wards were placed, she got utter stage fright at one of the rehearsals…

The day arrived.

Even if she didn't believe marriage was sacred, it was still a vow, and she took those seriously. She adjusted her hair in front of the mirror one more time, looking at the red and black silk flowers on the band holding the veil in place.

She wouldn't fall out of love with him. All things considered, she probably loved him too much. Adored him. But she would never be his equal.

Well, for centuries marriage had _not_ been between equals. And look how most of those turned out.

She didn't think he would beat her, what were the odds he would find someone else? After two thousand years?

But what if someday he looked at her and saw someone so close to what he wanted, the closest he had ever seen (she would take his word for it) and still not enough?

He would probably try to hide it if that happened, to spare her, but he wasn't actually that good at lying, or hiding things if one was looking. She would know. She didn't think she would survive it.

He'd thrown his life away to save humanity: it was only fair she abandon hers to marry him.

A professional had done the make-up for her and the bridesmaids, who were checking everything over. Almost time to walk up the aisle.

She wanted this. She wanted this so much. She would be his wife. She'd once though that no one would remember her after she died, but now she would be remembered, as his wife and probably not much else. She hoped it would be a romantic story.

She hoped girls would cry themselves to sleep out of envy for two thousand more years.

But she didn't know if she could bear to leave him alone for that long. How long would they be together? How long was till death did them part?

She was a silly girl. He was the strongest ever, wasn't he? He would protect them. She was so weak by comparison…

Time to go. One last flurry of checking everything over, a Guardian tribe girl named Brunhilde handed her the bouquet for inspection. Red and black roses mingled. No thorns here, it wouldn't do for her to get pricked before the ceremony was even over.

The bad pun made her smile, and she nodded and handled it back.

The curtains closing the pavilion opened, and she stepped out onto the red carpet, flower girls going ahead so she walked on rose petals. Everything was roses today.

She was theoretically supposed to be modest and keep her eyes downcast, probably, or appear solemn, but she looked up at Sparda, standing on the dais, and smiled.

A beautiful day, beautiful music, he was beautiful, she was beautiful, and all the gloomy thoughts melted away and she realized this would probably be the happiest day of her life.

The thought of how it wouldn't be all downhill from here despite that made her smile into a little more of a smirk. She wanted to run into his arms and laugh, but she kept walking slowly. She would be proper today.

Well, for most of today.

The seamstress had been very good at concealing the weaponry.

She had considered asking Tony Sr. to play Father of the Bride, but she was the one giving herself away.

It felt dangerous to do so, but she was already trusting him with her life. And her heart seemed to have fallen into his hands. She was caught, and she could only have faith it wasn't a trap.

He was beautiful, wearing red and black as well today, a purple rose in his buttonhole and that monocle. That ridiculous monocle.

She mounted the dais and stood across from him and they were both smiling like fools. She was glad he was a devil suddenly, glad he could tell exactly how happy she was. She wanted him to know how she felt and he did. He was perfect. She was so happy she could make him happy.

They had thought about writing their own vows, but had kept it simple. They had vowed enough, said enough of how they felt to each other. This was for the world.

And this was her own wedding, one was supposed to cry at other people's weddings, but she had to blink her eyes. So happy. So, so happy.

"We are gathered here today to celebrate the joining to two who have, in their own ways, done a great deal to bring about a world filled with peace and happiness." Matier smiled in benediction, not jealous even though Eva could tell she had once worshipped Sparda the same way she had as a girl. "Let us celebrate that they have, in each other, found their own peace and happiness."

The rings were brought forward. Plain gold bands, the metal that never tarnished. One gold, one white gold.

"Sir Lucian Thaddeus von Schwärzung, do you vow to honor and protect Eva, to cherish her and aid her," Eva's mind inserted 'in sickness and in health' here, "for as long as you both shall live?"

"With all my soul I do." He bowed his head, sincerity radiating from him.

"Eva Williams, do you vow to honor and protect Lucian, to cherish him and aid him," he wouldn't have sickness. And what could she do to aid him? "For as long as you both shall live?"

"With all my soul I do." She would still swear it. Had still sworn it. Even if there was nothing she could do for him, except love him and be his, he had done so much for her…

He seemed to untense slightly. He couldn't have doubted that she would? No, he hadn't doubted. But he was still nervous. Just as she didn't doubt he would love her forever, never harm her, but was still nervous.

They would have to trust each other for this to work, and she would continue to trust him even if he ripped her heart from her chest. He would just go get a gold orb, and she would smack him…

"I now pronounce you husband and wife." Not Man and Wife. A. that was sexist, and B. he wasn't a man. "You may kiss."

And she hurled herself into his arms.

He caught her easily, and her lips opened for him, and she loved kissing him. She could almost taste not only his body but his heart, like this. Or imagine she could.

Her eyes were closed and she knew his were, and she could hear the clapping getting louder and louder, as stragglers joined in, and she smiled into the kiss.

He loved her. He was a devil, but he had a heart. He would never harm her.

She would trumpet that to the world. Do her best to make them see what a wonderful person he was, all of them. Because he deserved it.

So… she was married now.

The best man, one of the Swiss hunters who lived on Sparda's lands inched over and elbowed Matier. "The rings!" he hissed quietly.

Something old (Sparda, she'd joked), something new (the vows), something borrowed (Luce and Ombra), something blue (the garters, as they didn't show), and something going wrong.

They were cursed, cursed! She smiled into the kiss again before they took pity on Matier and separated. Something small going wrong always made her feel safer. Something _always_ went wrong, so now it was over with.

And the ceremony was really just a formality, the important stuff was happening later.

The ring bearer (a Guardian Clan child), stepped forward as Matier beckoned.

And somebody screamed.

A fraction of a second after it began, it ceased as Sparda activated the seal and the 'innocent bystanders,' who had been seated in the center of the audience, were placed in protected stasis.

He laughed as demons poured out of the trees. "I believe the bet goes to me, Milady!"

"We didn't do the rings, meaning the ceremony isn't over, meaning I won the bet!" She kicked of the train and pulled the veil the rest of the way off of her head. They would be easy to put back on later.

"Ah ah ah, I believe the terms were," he pulled out a shotgun, "whether or not we would be married before the ceremony was interrupted by Mundus' forces attacking."

"And we were pronounced man and wife, I mean husband and wife, okay, okay." She started firing, her shots joining those that rang out from the hunters and guardians who had pulled concealed weapons from within clothes and beneath seats and joined in the slaughter.

"Spaaaardaaaaa!" echoed loudly from the trees.

"That appears to be my cue." He pecked her on the cheek.

She grabbed his head as he drew back and gave him a matching kiss. "Watch yourself."

He laughed. "Do I not always?"

"I absolutely refuse to be a widow." She smiled. "Now shoo, the instant this one of Mundus' generals is killed the sooner we can leave on our honeymoon."

"Indeed, your trap seems to have worked, milady. The world's greatest hunters and myself, all in one place. The perfect target for an ambush."

"Only if the targets know they're coming, the attackers will be the ones ambushed." Matier had already made her way down into the fray. Her walking stick seemed to act as a flamethrower. "I know, I'm a genius, you love me for it, shoo." He bowed, smiling, and jumped away.

More hunters had been back at the lodge, the ones who had not wanted to be present for the actual ceremony, and were striking the demons from the back. Here, Hunters and Guardians were fighting back to back.

The air was filled with a cacophony of shouts and bullets and screams and clang of mace against pike. Blasts of strange light from both sides, people appearing out of thin air as Gold Orbs activated. Not as many as she had though.

She ran forward. This was _her_ party, and she wasn't going to let her guests kill them all!

One of the Vie du Mariians turned into a demon and was shot on instinct by a hunter, who then realized the mistake and holstered his gun, embarrassed. And actually apologized, as the woman shook her fist at him and pointed at her shoulder angrily. Or at least that seemed to be what was going on, Eva couldn't exactly hear over all the noise.

Luce and Ombra handled like dreams, as they had when she'd tried them before, even if they were a little heavy. Well, they held their property in common now, right? So it wouldn't exactly be stealing them…

"Quit taking potshots and get up on that dais!" Tony Jr. came up to her and yelled.

A formation seemed to be developing, hunters stayed back and shot with their strongest guns while the Guardians kept the demons away from the hunters.

"Hell no! I set this whole thing up, so I get to kill things!"

"Yes! Kill things! Get up there and toss those bombs of yours behind them! You're wasted here in the middle of the crowd, you're arm might get knocked or something and I don't want one of your specials landing next to me!"

…well.

It wasn't a case of 'protect the woman' or wanting to make sure she wasn't killed in case Sparda went on a rampage. The Guardian tribe was split about fifty-fifty, but there were many more male than female hunters.

"All right!" She ran up to the dais and peeked under it, looking for the bags of supplies, almost bumping into someone who was raiding it for more Vital Stars.

_There_ was her bag. With her modified grenade launcher.

Okay…

Place her shots back into the trees, the flying daggers that would be produced by the trees exploding would kill as many as the blast.

Man… how many had Mundus's generals been smuggling onto earth? They must really have been serious about the two thousandth anniversary of his defeat being the time of his rebirth. That was coming up in… 32 years now, but they lived for millennia and thought long-term.

The ones that could use the dislocation technique were coming in among the hunters, she switched the launcher for Luce and Ombra and took out one that had probably figured out she was the cause of the blasts and appeared not two feet away from her.

Tons of them. But what with how busy Hunters had been for the past few years… these must be the reserves.

After this, it would take a long while for enough to get through to earth despite the seal to be a major threat again. How long had these been stockpiled? How many sorcerers had been deceived with lies of immortality and power to summon this many through, create bodies for this many of the weak dark spirits? There were stronger ones though: many colors of bats, lots of things with scythes, varied weapons, the Shadows were a pain in the ass…

But for once, the numbers weren't entirely on their side. It was an army against an army, not one against an army.

She was pleased that the immediate threat was overpowering prejudice. Perhaps this meant in future…

She kept firing. She had no idea where Sparda was, but he would be able to dodge.

And suddenly the ones that could dislocate all vanished and the rest of them began to flee.

Such a defeat… maybe it would make them think twice.

She'd been right, the thought of the traitor marrying, the thought of him having children had goaded them to attack.

Sparda dropped down beside her. "It will probably take another hour to search the grounds for those in hiding, as well as to disguise the damage to the surroundings."

Eva blew smoke off of the grenade launcher. "People will ignore a lot that doesn't make sense, but thank goodness for illusion spells. And is that any way to greet your new wife?" She pouted.

"How should I have acted? Should I have been concerned for you? Perhaps worried you had fainted from the shock of seeing such horrible creatures?"

She burst out laughing. "Me… fainting!"

"Exactly. The only worry I had about you was that someone might try to protect you and I would come back to find you had kicked someone in the groin and were in a bad mood, milady."

"…I need a pet name for you."

"I await it with terror, milady." He bowed.

"Can you be a dear and put this away?" She fluttered her eyelashes.

He picked up the launcher easily with one hand and jumped down to stash it away under the dais again.

All over bar the cleaning up. Fortunately, hunters were good at making it look natural. The red carpet was straightened, chairs were put back in rows, trees were appearing as if by magic, and, well… it was a ceremony, people wouldn't be surprised if it took a long time. There had been the music before she came out, and there would be another procession, and the correct time would show in watches (time was passing inside the seal, they simply weren't aware of it) and any little inconsistencies would be explained away by rational minds.

She knew something they didn't know. Petty, but true. A battle had raged here, and none would ever know. Well, except hunters.

A pretty day, a pretty little ceremony, joy and good will and flowers and champagne and most of the brass bullet cases were being picked up but it any were found they would attribute it to hunters of the mundane kind.

She was helped into her train and veil, the ring bearer had taken good care of the rings even while taking cover, and… good enough to go.

"All right!" She yelled, cupping her hands for a megaphone. "Places! Be as close to you can to where you were, and act natural. All your weapons are hidden, right? Wiped the smudges from the guns going off off your faces?" A few grabbed handkerchiefs and did so. "Your clothing's repaired itself, right? Okay." She looked at Sparda, who nodded. "He'll release the seal in 10, 9, 8…" She got in position in his arms, smiling up at him.

And the count reached 0.

The ring bearer went up the last couple of steps, and Matier gestured for them to take the rings. Sparda went down on one knee and slipped hers onto her finger, kissing her hand, then she pulled him up, kissed him, and put his on without kneeling.

She couldn't kneel to him. She had so little power in this strange relationship they had: he could kill her without thought. She needed to hold on to what power, what independence she had or she might lose the fire in her that so fascinated him. She didn't have to fight him, but she had to fight.

But he knelt to her, he gave her power, let her order him around with a smile, and they both knew the power was yet another gift and not hers by right… but it was her gift, and her power was in accepting it, in loving him.

Matier, short as she was, had an elevated podium and when she stepped down from it the ceremony was over, with the audience none the wiser. Eva laughed. "Gather round, I'm going to toss the bouquet!"

Giggling young society ladies, the kind she was much happier she wasn't gathered around the base of the dais, and Eva turned around and tossed it over her head.

An exodus began towards the pavilions where the reception was set up, with the amazingly huge cake.

Eva took Sparda's arm proprietarily and let him lead her.

They both held the knife to cut the cake. Chocolate with fluffy white icing. Sweet and light on the outside, dark and rich on the inside… why was she looking for some meaning, it was just very good cake.

They probably thought she wasn't a virgin, not wearing white. Well, they'd be right in a few more hours.

Feeding each other pieces of cake was fun. And they took the figurines of them that had been on top of the cake with them when they drove off to where the portal would take them to his private tropical island. The benefits of being filthy rich. She leaned against his shoulder as he drove.

George Morgan still thought this Eva woman was young enough to be his daughter, and wished Lucian had gotten a prenuptial agreement. He hadn't offered the advice: he didn't think anyone had been brave enough to.

Lucian was a good fellow, but when he had restrained that temper that time George had realized that here was someone who really had been through the wars.

He seemed to be a good judge of character, and she didn't seem like a gold digger. He had the cake, and tried not to think about how it had been both his daughters' favorite.


	15. Xb Promised Land

Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry. You can tell by the way this is a fanfic instead of an OAV, or full-blown anime. Also by the way that picture in the manga wasn't Sparda and Eva. And I iconed it too. You can also tell it's not mine because I would have hired a different manga-ka.

This is a kiriban: ashespan gave me the 2000th review I have archived on and in thanks to them and all my other reviewers (hint hint) I am doing a gift-fic, or in this case gift side-fic. Romance was requested, and I'd mentioned I might do a sex scene in my lj a while ago. I'm not doing sex scenes anymore, but I hope this is good.

I'd been thinking that I should be giving them some happy time too, so this is good. I hope everyone enjoys.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

When she woke up, light was streaming in through the curtains. Afternoon? Well, they had been up all night.

She was surprised she had slept so well. After all, this was her first night with a body sharing her bed. She hadn't thought about it before, but if he had snored or moved it would have woken her up. She was a light sleeper: she had to be to stay alive.

She'd been tired out, though.

She smiled and looked at his face, on the pillow next to hers. He smiled in his sleep, and it made her feel like she was drunk, the knowledge that she'd put that smile there.

'Lost' her virginity? She didn't feel like she'd lost anything, even if there had been a momentary pain.

His right arm was wrapped around her and his right leg was spread on top of hers, both of her arms around his neck. It should have felt awkward, the strange position, but she felt supremely comfortable.

They'd been at it for hours, so no wonder she was still afterglowy.

Married, the two become one and all that poetic stuff. It seemed so appropriate.

She felt all light and fluffy, like his arm and leg were the only things keeping her from just floating away, up in the clouds but her heaven was right here.

His weight was reassuringly solid, real. He always had gravity, he would stay here.

She lay there, breathed and listened to his breath.

She felt altogether different. Was she different?

Well, legally she was, her name should have changed. Ms. Dolores… Ms. Eva. Dame Eva Williams-von Schwarzung.

She'd been so giddy, all of yesterday. She smiled at the memory. No, she wasn't going to float away, she felt more solid now. More real, more complete.

She used to hate. Her life had been all about hate and death, really. Now she had something to live for. Something to protect.

She had to protect herself. She couldn't die and leave him alone.

She didn't want to die. There was no heaven but this.

Maybe, eventually… it might be worth becoming a demon, just to stay here.

The old Eva would have died rather than think that. She smiled.

He really had changed her, but not by magic. Just by being him. She hadn't been able to believe Sparda had really existed. Just a legend, too good to be true.

Just like true love, huh?

She squeezed him gently, not wanting to wake him up. Wanting this moment to last.

Though she loved it when he talked and he was very inventive with that mouth… they were both bright people.

When he woke up they could get something to eat. She would feed him, and he her. Though he'd already devoured her passion.

She liked that idea. That he knew exactly what he was doing to her, how much she loved him. Even though before she would have thought it invasive… they were one now, weren't they?

Even if they were really two. Two totally different people.

Two totally different species.

What did she have to offer him, really? Just this love they'd fallen into. But she didn't fear losing him, she knew this was enough. Lying here, she knew it was enough.

She'd given herself up to him totally. Weaponless, throat bared, and he'd held her like porcelain until she'd hit him and yelled for him to thrust harder, damn it! Afraid of breaking her. She didn't like being the weak link here.

She pouted and shrugged, slightly again. He was warm, hot enough only a single silk sheet covered them in the Caribbean night.

His arms had held her, so gentle yet so firm, never hurting her, never letting her go. A vow in that embrace. Their hands had wandered, they'd hugged before, hugging was wonderful, but the clothes, flimsy barriers that they were had gone, thrown to the winds and they could explore the bodies they wanted to memorize, know as well as their own hearts.

She couldn't help but smile, remembering, and she felt that secret giddiness rising again. She felt so free, anchored here.

She'd nipped him and he'd shuddered. She'd smiled, her guess that he might like it rough confirmed. She'd bit, wanting to claim him with some animal instinct but she hadn't had to worry about marring that flawless skin, the marks were gone on the instant.

So she'd just had to mark him again. He'd kissed and sucked, hard on her neck and she knew he yearned to bite back but he hadn't. Maybe another time.

Maybe sometime they would agree he could hurt her. Some found pleasure in pain, she could grow to like anything for him.

She'd wanted to make their first time all for him. They'd both brought orbs in case he lost control and in fact she'd tried to make him lose control. She'd been aware, as soon as they started, of a competition, each trying to make the other lose focus in pleasure, each so focused on the other's completion that they ignored their own.

The war had ended by mutual treaty. Each not only wanted to give the other pleasure but satisfaction, and they both knew that the thing that would make the other happiest was seeing their partner in rapture and knowing they had caused it.

He'd murmured in her ear how brave she was. She'd just smiled. This wasn't a night for words, they had only had words for years now and this was their first time.

Still, he'd made her heart sing as her body had.

They'd fumbled at first, they both knew how their own bodies had worked and had heard other people tell of their own conquests but practice made perfect. Although it had been perfect the whole time. It still was perfect.

And when he woke up it would be perfect some more. She slowly inched forward to kiss him on the tip of his aristocratic nose.

In repose, his face looked like that of a statue, too perfect to be real. Him and truth in advertising: it wasn't a real human face. It was his face, his mask. She'd seen his real face, as much as anything was real for a shapeshifter. It was him, he was beautiful, even if she had felt obligated to make a cockroach joke.

Now her neck was in an uncomfortable position. Her body shifted, she wriggled a bit, loving the feelings of warm skin and cool sheets. Yes, she could get used to this.

She'd have years to get used to it.

Used to the way he kissed her all over, licked the salt sweat off of her skin and looked at her with dangerous eyes, wanting to eat her all up metaphorically and literally. Used to clawing at his back, their hips working and wanting to scream at him to hurry up. She swore, he'd take hours if she let him.

Not, as she'd learned this night, there was anything wrong with hours. Maybe it was just that she'd spent so long knowing she would die young, that she wanted to hurry. Wanted to cram in as much passion as possible, as much _him_ as possible.

Even when she died, she'd agreed he could keep her soul. Her immortal soul in the keeping of a devil. How perfect. And ironically perfect. She couldn't stop smiling.

She could hear the waves lapping on the beach right outside the glass doors. She would have a beautiful view if she sat up in bed, but she had a better view lying here and looking at his face.

Still, after they got up, before breakfast, she wanted to look in a mirror. Spin around and regard herself carefully to see if anything had changed. There had to be some outward mark, right?

Well, that was why people wore rings, as a sign they were married. Married.

It had been an 'of course' when she was a child, an impossibility later. Well, here she was.

Marrying Sparda: even her youthful hero-worship and romanticism hadn't gone that far, although she'd envied the priestess. Such a beautiful tragedy.

It wasn't that way at all, so she didn't have to be jealous.

Hers, all hers. Other people had to be jealous.

They would mutter behind her back about how he just wanted a heir because he was getting old, about how she couldn't possibly be his intellectual match, just a woman… it would have enraged her but she just didn't feel capable of hate or anger right now. Maybe in a few hours? No, they would be busy again by then. They were going to be staying here at least a week.

This would be fun.

More kisses, more touching, more sex. Free love! How amusing. And lots of it.

No, not free. Bound to each other. For eternity? Until death? For as long as they could stay together. And he'd defeated an army, saved a world so surely he could protect this, what they had here.

She couldn't stay melancholy when she felt like singing. She wanted to leave this deserted place and show him off.

See? This is Sparda! He saved you all, you all owe him your lives, he's a devil but he's really a good guy, see? I love him so much and you can't have him, he's mine and he makes me so happy I feel a little crazy right now. I must be crazy, marrying a devil but he's not an ordinary devil, he's the legendary dark knight and after all these centuries the versions of the legend that have him settling down with a human are finally accurate. Me! I'm married to him! Hands off!

She grinned maniacally and catalogued her weapons in her mind.

She might need those weapons.

The legend said he became human either a) because of the seal, which weakened him but left him a devil or b) because of true love.

Frankly, she didn't see how true love would change him. Or, rather, because after this she wasn't going to underestimate the power of love, why.

Didn't love mean loving them the way they were?

Maybe… well, a while ago if he had turned human she would have been secretly relieved. She wouldn't have been loving a devil then. It would have been okay to love him. She might even have felt a little glad, maybe even happy she was responsible for him not being an evil being anymore.

Now?

Well, if he stopped being a devil, he'd be weaker. Someone might kill him. She didn't want him to die.

Also, he would be unhappy. He liked being a devil, it was who he was. She loved who he was.

She didn't know if he would have been willing to become a human if she had insisted on it. She hoped he wouldn't have. Her saying she could only love a human: if she'd said that that would have meant she didn't love him, not really.

He wasn't insisting on her becoming a demon, even if he truly, terribly feared her dying and leaving him alone. He made it very clear it was her choice, but she knew what a sacrifice it was for him.

Maybe when she was about to die? Or after she died. It would all be borrowed time then. All be stolen.

But why was she thinking of the future now? Because she had an even better idea of what she would be losing. She couldn't lose him. So she wouldn't.

Them coming together was impossible, impossible odds, two thousand years and no one else, so she didn't have to worry about competition. He didn't either. Who stood a chance against the legend?

Who stood a chance against her husband? The man, devil, whatever she'd chosen? Given her heart and her word to?

Dear god, she was lost.

God. She had something to be thankful for, if there was a god in the Christian sense.

There was Sparda, of course, and damn it but she was thankful to him.

She wanted to cry now, she was so happy. She blinked her eyes rapidly and the feeling went away. The sheets were already ruined, but no need to get them even messier.

Their marriage bed.

They were married.

It was making her grin like a fool. She looked over at Sparda. A private smile, a tinge of gloat to it. She felt like gloating too. She'd won him, hadn't she? Even if she hadn't been trying to, and had been rather displeased when it happened. Rather frightened. He'd been frightened too. Surprised.

Neither had even thought this was possible, and it was a good thing they hadn't known or they would have stayed far away from each other.

Fate, luck, randomness, just rewards. She didn't know. He deserved it, sure. Deserved better than her, if she was honest about it which she was trying not to be. Didn't want anything to mar this.

If she went all, "I'm not worthy" he would be distressed and try to pull her up out of it, and while that would be very flattering it would also be annoying and waste time that could be better devoted to other things. Like sex.

They could do it again as soon as he woke up.

They could do it again every day for the rest of their lives. Several times a day, even. She felt altogether greedy. Lustful. But she didn't have to lust after him, because she had him. She could kick him in the side right now if she wanted to, and they could do it like rabbits for a few more hours until he cooked her breakfast. They could even try doing both at once, since he could be in two places at once! She could even see if she could get him distracted enough he burnt something. If he did, she would be sure it had been really good for him, and if he didn't, unburnt food! There was no way she could lose, really.

There were some things she'd wanted to try last night but had fallen asleep first. And, of course, to be fair she had to let him melt her into a puddle a lot of the time. Not that she was complaining, mind you.

Everything was utterly delicious. It looked like a wonderful day out there. Sun shining, birds cawing, waves foaming, the world was utterly cheerful. Or tropical.

She always pictured him as more at home among ice and snow, with his reserve. He wasn't cold, no. Mountainous.

She leaned over again and pecked him on the nose again. Was his smile a little deeper? She smiled back, even though his eyes were closed.

It was so quiet, except for the nature sounds. None of the hubbub of the city, just the world he had saved and the two of them on this island. Their own land of milk and honey. There was a bad joke in there somewhere, but she was too relaxed to care. She smiled wickedly, however. Several bad jokes.

Oooh, she would get to see him in a swimsuit. She'd bought one just for this, too. Goodness only knew if they would get much actual swimming in.

She would have to make sure to splash him. He looked fantastic when he glistened, though even salt water wasn't sweat. It took a lot to make him sweat, she had taken it as one more victory of the night.

Last night… lost, gained, won & lost. Spinning in her head and she didn't make sense out of it. Except good. Not good sense, but good things.

Although a devil wasn't good and sleeping with a devil wasn't good, but then common sense had never got her anywhere. Common sense and common lives said she had been married years ago, had kids years ago, with some man she didn't really love, just tolerated or maybe friends at best.

She and Sparda-SpardaSpardaYay! She loved him so much!-were friends as well as, well, lovers now. And in love. Couldn't forget in love.

God, she loved him so much.

She felt safe here. She hadn't felt safe in years-no, she'd felt safe when she was staying in the rooms next to his, just not this safe.

Curled up here with him, around him. She smiled and wriggled again, just a little. She felt so comfortable.

She should be freaking. Weighed down by a man, not exactly held pinned but still. After what had happened to her sister… but this wasn't rape. She was much too enthusiastic about this for it to be anything like rape. Her sister would understand. Her sister might be happy for her.

Would her sister have wanted her to spend her whole life pursuing vengeance? No, she would probably be unhappy that so much was 'wasted.' She would have wanted her little sister to be happy.

And she had been happy, killing them. Just not… soft happy. Like she felt soft happy now. All floaty. No wonder they called it Cloud Nine.

After all, if she hadn't become a hunter… well, she might have met Sparda, he was a banker and her father was a banker, but she would have just been one more socialite. Even if she had had a crush on him, even it that other her had had the brains to see how wonderful he was, they would have been two ships passing in the night. He would have had no reason to give a second glance to just one more ordinary woman.

Eva liked to think she would still have had spirit, a personality, but knew without her… discipline? Scars? She wasn't fundamentally that tough. She had to work hard to be a bitch.

With her hands never calloused, what would there have been to see in her?

So… she'd never thank her sister's murderers. But maybe this was some sort of cosmic redemption for that.

Maybe she had her sister's share of happiness. Her sister had been very happy with her love, before, after all.

She didn't want to think about it that way.

She leaned over, tilted her head, and kissed him on the lips. "I'm done thinking for now. You can quit pretending to be asleep." She smiled broadly as he opened his eyes.

"You caught me." He wasn't surprised.

"You told me you needed what, two hours? You _still_ being asleep right when I wake up? When I've been out long enough for it to become afternoon? And not waking up when I woke up, with your awareness?" She chuckled lightly. "Come on."

"I didn't marry a fool. You seemed to like having that time."

"Yeah." She sighed happily, then kissed him again. "You always know."

"I am cheating." He kissed her back.

A few moments later, she replied, "Yes, and I love it. You're just so perfect." She Eskimo-kissed him, rubbing noses.

"What were you thinking of?"

"Can't you guess? What else would I be thinking of?" Her hands unwrapped from his neck and one trailed down his chest while the other cupped his chin. "You, us. All of that. There's so much to think about."

"Indeed. You are legion." He kissed her palm.

"That's what the demon says about himself." She laughed. "You're the one with so many lifetimes of experience."

"And nothing to equal this."

"Flatterer." But she smiled and pushed tighter against him. "Hold me for a while?"

His other arm snaked around her and they lay there. "Penny for your thoughts?" she asked, as she heard his heart beat and the waves roll in.

"That I never expected to end up here yet somehow it makes it… not worth it, but… I would not change a thing. Even Mundus. Without that I would not have ended up here. Is that selfish of me? So many died?"

"I was thinking the same way. I think love is selfish. It's all about the two of us. I would kill a hunter to protect you, even though someone might love them. But you're included in my selfishness… I'd do anything for you. Well, not really. There are some things I know you wouldn't want me to do, so I wouldn't do them. Like dying, even to save you. Like I would never be able to bear it if you died to save me."

He nodded and kissed her hair, tucking her close. "It's not unselfishness. But you are a part of me, and selfishness is all about the self."

"I couldn't tear out my own heart." She nodded. "So we're really stuck together. And I used to think the two becoming one was just someone being poetic."

"I've seen true love, so at least I know the outside of what we're feeling." He squeezed her. "Though actually experiencing it is very different."

"You've seen everything. But me. I'm unprecedented. It's too late to stop it from going to my head, you know."

"I know. But it's such a pretty head, if it grew larger there would only be more to admire."

"There you go being poetic again." She kissed his neck and he shivered. "This is our reward, do you think? Our promised land?"

"I could not ask for more."

"Flatterer." She drew back to look at him. Silver hair with a few wild strands of her gold stuck among it. Sun and moon, though he was the eternal one.

Her stomach rumbled.

He seemed amused by her human imperfection. "Do you want breakfast?"

"I'll need to keep up my strength." She sighed like it was a terrible burden to bear. "English muffins with honey? And milk, please."

There in an instant. He had eggs and bacon.

They fed each other.


	16. XI Honeymoon

Disclaimer: If I owned Devil May Cry, this would be one of the official novels Tokyopop is translating, not a fanfiction published online. I don't own it.

Well, Rapture was originally supposed to be 12 parts, but it's been extended to 13 (not counting side chapters) because I wanted Sparda and Eva to have some happily married life before their inevitable demises.

Dante hints he doesn't have clear memories of Sparda, which hints gone sometime before age 5, I'm going with three. I'm also going with them waiting a few years to have kids after getting married. Hence this is 1971.

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Sometimes, when she was _really_ in that combat high (sweeter than anything illegal), it all seemed like a symphony.

Spent bullet casings falling to the ground, booted feet crunching gravel, the constant harmony of her guns, the occasional dramatic moment as a grenade or stronger bomb went off… Screams were vocals, and in this battle the hum of their wings could be the strings…

Only the orchestra wasn't either trying to kill the conductor or the other half of the orchestra in any concert she'd ever been to. Not unless gangs and rap were involved, she thought.

Beelzebubs, pesky little things. In a graveyard. How cliché.

She hadn't had time to examine the scene, but it was pretty clear some amateur had tried to summon the Lord of the Flies and just gotten a lot of small flies.

Easy money, she would have said if she was still getting paid for this.

Other hunters had taken over New York since she was gone so often. This was in Italy, good thing she still had that knack for languages. It sucked if there were ancient scripts telling you what spells were being used and you couldn't read them.

Or, on this visit, not being able to order from the menu and know what you were getting.

She'd just taken a shortcut back to the hotel room to grab something. She'd had to glare at Sparda for first offering to fetch it for her (he could teleport, after all. Another handy demonic power on the battlefield she couldn't learn), or accompany her. She wasn't helpless.

And, she was relieved to discover, she wasn't out of practice either. She'd fought side-by-side with him enough, they'd picked where to travel to next based on where there was the most demonic trouble, though they'd thrown such a spike in the wheels of those trying to resurrect Mundus at the wedding there had been a quick drop-off in activity…

And there was a familiar blur around her and she bit back a curse as the last of the few Beelzebubs that had made their way through were slaughtered by a swift blade. "Sparda! What the hell do you think you're doing!" She holstered her guns and waved her fist at him.

His eyes narrowed, looking at the remains of the circle that had conjured them up. "They attacked you, milady!"

"So what, damnit! I've been attacked by a lot of things! Being pregnant has not suddenly made me a fragile wilting flower! Can't I even fight a few weak ones on my own!" She was _pissed_ now. She braced her hands on her hips and glared at his back. "Well?"

He turned, eyes still distant and angry. "And don't you glow your eyes at _me_, dear. This was a perfectly random encounter, and I'm capable of handling much more than this, aren't I?"

He closed his eyes and tried to calm his voice, though his fists were still clenched. "I am sorry I gave the impression I thought you could not defend yourself, milady."

"That's better." She rolled her eyes, half sighing, and walked up to him. "I'm fine. Only three months along, I'm not incapacitated." Yet. Why oh why had she told the midwife to give her the straight scoop? But she was healthy, she should be fine. Just… slowed down.

"I know, milady. Still, I worry." He was scratching out the chalk lines, and turned over what was left of the summoner's body with his swordpoint. "It seems you were right, this was simply a mortal fool with no training, nothing else came through this time."

This time. Not like the last time. "They don't even know I'm pregnant yet, Sparda. I think we've got a few more months before they'll find out and get… even more deadly serious about killing me."

"Only because we have killed every demon that has come near you, milady. Even though your body does not show it, it is… rather obvious otherwise. If one were to report back… but you were killing them all."

"Yes, I'm good about that, that's why you married me." She put a hand on his arm as he looked around, still tense, ready to pounce. "I'll be _fine._"

Sword still out, his other hand took hers. "I married you for more than that, milady, but still… it would be _safer_ if you were to stay behind the wards on my properties."

"Stay at home? No, Sparda." She let her other hand touch her belly. "I refuse to _cower_, Sparda."

He smiled finally, looking at her. "And that spirit is why I married you. Though it is dangerous now."

She snorted. "I gave up safe when I decided to live as a hunter. If I had any regard for safe, I would have stayed as far away from you as possible, love or not."

"I know." His hand squeezed hers. "Yet still… I want you _safe, _you and our children."

"They will be safe, I'll keep them safe, I swear to you. If I had been in real danger," she touched the talisman on her wrist, "I would have called you to me."

He finally sheathed the sword and pulled her to him, kissing her hair and then looking over her head into the shadows. "I would have been there on the instant, and there is no way anything should be able to slip through that could defeat me, even with my own full powers bound by the seal. Yet I still…"

"You worry."

"Am I wrong to?"

"No." Eva sighed. "We're bringing them into a world full of enemies, with another one right next to it."

"I have always known and accepted that due to what my kind did under Mundus' rule, humans would kill me if they could, if it were ever safe enough earth could survive without my aid… but my children do not have the protection of usefulness. Children!" He laughed quietly. "I truly have become somewhat of a human. In my realm… well, children are weak, and you know what we think of the weak. It is not frowned on to eat your own children, and if you do not keep them properly guarded, others would do so happily."

"If this was the Underworld I'd be in your nest at the center of your domain behind every protection you could make and every demon under your command, I know, I know. But I've given up so much for you. I can't give up having a life."

"I simply do not want you to give up your life, for me and mine. You do know, when they find out…"

"Either there will be attacks or there won't be. They'll get used to the idea. Hey, they're your kids. What's wrong with having more strong defenders of earth? And they're half-human too."

"I hope familiarity will not breed contempt." He caressed her chest. "My children… they carry all of my powers, I am sure of it. And they are under no seal."

That meant… when they grew up, his children might be able to defeat him. If they tried to take over earth… after all, humans were weak things. Their demonic instincts would say they had every right to do to them whatever they wanted.

"They won't. They're your children, and we'll raise them better than that."

"You will teach them that not all humans are weak, milady." He kissed her hair again.

She kissed his neck. "You'll look after them and me, I'll look after them… your family will be just fine, Sparda. I'm crazy, but not crazy enough to risk them. You know how many gold orbs I'm carrying, Vital Stars… I'm loaded down like a pack mule here. Nothing will go wrong."

He sighed. "I still feel… too many threats, too many enemies. What if one comes I cannot defeat? And they are of my blood, what happens to earth if they are taken by someone who has figured out how to break the seal? There are three keys to the lock, and they have each inherited half of one."

"I suppose it's good luck they split into twins. They'd need both, doubly safe."

"I had a twin… I have not seen him in ages."

"You miss your family." It wasn't a question. "Miss your home."

He caressed her hair. "Yes… on occasion. Though I have built a home here. I have a family here, milady. You and now our children. I wish you could see their souls, so delicate…" Beautiful and fragile.

"I wonder what it'll be like when they start kicking. You're _sure _they won't be able to punch holes through my poor abdomen?" she said, trying to change the subject.

He nodded. "They will become stronger and have more demonic traits and powers as they age. Now, they are as weak as human children would be… though more resilient."

"Our kids should be tough." She smiled, playing with his cravat again. "They'll be fine. They'll have the two of us to look after them."

"Sometimes…" He kissed her to shut himself up, she could tell. Still, a kiss was a kiss. She let him finish it, then pulled back.

"Sometimes you feel like this was a mistake. That even though this is want you wanted, even though everything's going fine so far, it's just too good to be true. Too dangerous. Everything's going to come crashing down around our ears," she said it for him.

He hugged her tight, and… shuddered? He never shuddered. "Do you know what is done in the Underworld to the families of traitors?"

"I know I don't want to know."

A weak smile. "I think that is best, milady. I… was it right, milady? Is it right to bring them into these worlds, where so many will be ranged against them?"

She shrugged helplessly. "I made the decision with you, remember? And we could still…"

He shook his head emphatically. "I will not kill my children."

"And I don't think I would let you. Just playing devil's advocate. An odd thing for a hunter to do, but then this whole thing is odd."

"More than odd, milady."

"Utterly insane, yes. And having children is utterly insane. But they make you happy, don't they? Just like this whole relationship is making the two of us insanely happy. I know you love them. Petting my stomach, babying me in preparing for babying them, having rooms designed in red and blue, picking out names…" She toyed with his hair. "We didn't jump into this decision. We thought long and hard about it."

"I know."

"I know you know." She sighed. "I'm scared too. You're instinctively paranoid about protecting the babies from demons out to eat them and I'm still having to stomp on myself because my nasty little paranoid delusions are wondering if you just wanted to breed." Another sigh. "I know you aren't like that."

"It is fine, milady. I still have to curb my instincts from regarding you as a tasty treat and wanting to taste your screams." He shrugged.

"I mean, if you were trying to breed up an army of half-bloods and try to take over the world, you would have done it by now. There's nothing special about me tons of women over two thousand years haven't had."

"Except yourself."

"You say the sweetest things. I know I'm that special, though."

"You do, milady." He let one of his hands drift down to one of her holsters.

"What did you think of the free show when I fought?" She grinned. A much better topic.

"Beautiful as always, my lady of blood and death."

"Now there's a pet name." She pecked him on the cheek, still grinning. "You should have hung back and enjoyed the show, we're not…" going to take many chances. Soon she would really have to stand back when demons attacked. And they were going to attack.

The traitor having children… whatever was left after they had tried to stop the wedding would be sent to attack. Sparda was Sparda, but there was always the fear that one night… after all, Mundus had been pretty tough back in the day. No one had expected there would be anyone who could beat _him_ like that. Somewhere out there was someone who could take out Sparda. Or even if he got mobbed by enough of them… "Let's go back to the villa."

He nodded and held out his arm for her to take. She snuggled up to him.

She was wearing a red shawl instead of trenchcoat now, the trenchcoat was too shocking for most things. She looked more feminine, a dress too… with black stockings and a short cut so she could move in it.

The grounds were beautifully landscaped and the moon was gibbous, almost full. It had been full a few nights ago. Plenty of light, a beautiful night. "A beautiful night with a beautiful knight," she sing-songed, laughing when she finished.

He laughed as well. "And my lady fair, don't forget. Shall we get your gloves and go back to the party?"

"Hmm… let's wait a bit. Everyone knows we're still acting like we're on our honeymoon, so we don't even have to go back at all… we could just stay here, on this balcony." They had climbed the stairs to a balcony overlooking the gardens. "It really is a beautiful night… you can't see this many stars in New York."

"Too many human lights on the ground. Perhaps not so bad a trade as those who point it out seem to feel."

"Star lights or city lights… what have the stars ever done for us but look pretty? People can work by electric lights at night… it must be a good trade, or people wouldn't pay the electric bill." She looked around. "Still pretty… the world must seem to be changing so fast, with all the technology…"

"When has the world not been changing? And I traveled as well… I have estates like this one in many lands."

"Don't blame me for not being content to stay only on them."

"You have an adventurous spirit, milady. Bravery, and curiosity, risk-taking…" He smiled. "You take such risks, milady."

"I think I've won all my gambles." Surely a streak of luck like this wouldn't just… suddenly run out with no warning? She shivered, and drew close against him.

He wrapped wings around her, combed her hair with a taloned hand. She kissed it. "I will protect you, milady."

"I know, but I wish I didn't need protecting. I wish our children were safe."

"What is ever safe? You know better than most what perils lurk, and yet you wed one, bear two inside you."

"They aren't… well, yes. I want them to be dangerous. I'm dangerous, it's a good thing to be. They'll take after you… have your example to guide them. You'll teach them…"

"You will teach them, milady."

"And they'll be good big brothers for their little sister, or sisters… I think we should try for twins next time instead of it just happening. I think it'll be good for them, to never be alone. They'll always have someone just like them, someone who understands them." She sighed happily. "They'll lead each other, help each other, like Vergil and Dante in that poem… I like those names. Vergil Martin and Dante Luther von Schwärzung. Strong warrior and enduring warrior…"

"They will have need to fight, but they will glory in it." He pet her hair again.

She laughed. "Maybe I should have let you know when they first showed up. You act all harmless, but you really do like ripping things apart… I can't complain, except when you don't leave any for me. I wonder if they'll fight over opponents, who gets to fight what? I wonder what they'll be like…" She reached to stroke his wing.

"I wonder as well."

"We're afraid." They were, of so many things. Sometimes she didn't envy him, he must be feeling her fear as well as his own, and he hated it when she feared. "We're afraid. So many things can happen… and that so many _good_ things can happen makes it worse. I feel like I couldn't bear it if the bad things happened, and I couldn't bear it if the wonderful things didn't, and I don't think I could take it if the wonderful things _did_ happen, because they're just too wonderful… your children. The seeds of our love. They'll have your eyes…" She touched them. "Your hair…" So soft. "Your strength…" She squeezed his arm. "I just know they'll have your virtue too." A smile.

"My virtue is rare among my kind, and even more so among humans." An answering smile. "You do not value purity."

"Oh, our children will be pure. Pure _what_ is the question. I'm sure they'll be little hellions." Her hand squeezed his. "Wouldn't have it any other way. Bouncing off the walls, giving me hair as white as yours…" And things had been going so well. They'd almost been cheered up, and then she'd mentioned that she would age.

"You would be as beautiful in silver as in gold. I will treasure your soul forever." He nuzzled her hair.

Her soul belonged to him. People would say she should be horrified by that. "I'll be with you forever. I'll watch over our children too. I'll be the family ghost, and I'll deliver unwanted advice and be a back-seat Hunter when they're saving the world, just you watch. They'll want to exorcise me."

"As if I would let them." A kiss.

"Greedy devil." Another kiss, fiercer.

"I think lust is the more appropriate sin," he said, stroking her face with careful claws when she had to pull back to draw breath. He didn't need to like she did.

She knew she was addicted to danger, had been for years now, but the battlefield was an entirely different thrill from resting in his arms when he showed his nature as a dealer of death.

She could understand that he thought her beautiful when she killed things. "I'll get fat and you'll be disgusted with me."

"You will stockpile grenades and toss them at me when you have mood swings and I will be kept both on my toes and utterly enthralled."

"I'm already a tiny little hissing kitten compared to you and now I'll be even more a weak one." Kiss.

"Never helpless, milady. Not while I draw breath."

She snuggled up to him more, suddenly chilled by a breeze. It wasn't that cold a night, for the season even in northern Italy, but… "You're so sweet."

He laughed. "'Sweet' is hardly a compliment for us. Well, in a way… eminently edible."

"You'd like to eat me up, oh yes you would." She smiled and snuggled closer. "Our babies will be sweet little angels… when they're asleep. They'll wake up in the middle of the night crying and I'll kick you out of bed because you need less sleep than I do… I can't imagine you changing diapers, but I also can't imagine you getting a nanny. I think you'll be as possessive of them as you are of me."

"And letting someone near our children…" He bit back what he was about to say. "They would be mine to take care of. Ours."

"Our children." Her hand stroked her stomach. "Still can't believe it."

"It does indeed seem too good to be true."

"I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Sparda… are we doing the right thing? Mundus would do anything to get his hands on them as soon as he knows they exist."

His hands and wings tightened around her. "Ow! Watch the claws!"

"Over. My. Dead. Body." He shifted back to normal hands so he could squeeze her tightly.

"I know. And that makes me more afraid… but I trust you." She squeezed him back. "I do, you know that."

He closed his eyes, trying to make them stop glowing red again. "I know, milady." He kissed her hair gently. "Nothing will happen because we will let nothing happen. Our children will grow up strong and safe until they can stand on their own against all comers."

"I…" She hit the deck as glowing short spears appeared out of nowhere. Sparda shielded her with his wing and then took off.

She grabbed her weapons and looked out between the columns supporting the armrest at the edge of the balcony. She couldn't see anything… no, there… she'd only spotted it because of Sparda's movement. Long-range… a demon.

Sparda jumped back up. "Destroyed, and I did not find any others."

She let out a breath. It felt strange to be so scared. This wouldn't have fazed her before. But now three lives were at stake. "What was it? Targeting from that far away…"

"A new type. The design was rather strange… where they got the idea is an enigma. I have never seen anything that looked like it."

"It didn't…"

"I think it was simply another loose one sent to attack. It was working alone. I doubt they know."

"You're sure?" A futile quest for reassurance.

"I do not know." Their eyes met.

"Well…" Suddenly, she wanted to agree to be kept in a gilded cage. But she would have to face the world someday, her children would have to. No favors would be done by staying safe. "Let's go back to that party."

Sparda's mouth opened to say something and then closed. Finally, he nodded. "We can not show that this attack affected us any more than a normal one would, you are right milady."

"It was just a normal one." Her heart was calming now. "The most unpleasant thing that's happened tonight was me having to talk to that utter bore."

"Something I shall ensure will not happen again." A smile, and she was good now at reading when what showed on his face was just the mask.

"I trust you to. Never boring." She took his arm. "Let's go."


	17. XII With Children

Disclaimer: Just like it says in every other chapter of this thing, I don't own Devil May Cry.

And here is what would have been the last part if things had gone differently. But I wanted to give them some quality time with each other and the kids, so I'm leaving the Sparda-death angst for another chapter, so expect this to make your teeth rot.

/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\

Eva experienced that familiar sinking feeling once again.

Yes, the babies had escaped from the playpen. Not that they were babies-babies anymore, they had managed to start toddling and sort of talking early. Still her babies, and still possessed of an infant's ability to get into trouble despite the superior intelligence.

She saw the gnaw marks on the titanium bars (teething, when they had been born with teeth?) but they hadn't managed to chew through the new set yet. Which probably meant they'd helped each other undo the latch. Damn, and she'd just gotten a new one!

Human standards of foolproof didn't really cut it when it came to super genius infants.

She really wasn't looking forward to when they could climb over.

If they made it out of the house she hoped they didn't go after the chickens again: they were still panicked and not laying as many eggs as they should be from last time. They'd played cats and mouse with a black cockerel and proudly showed her the feathers they'd gotten off of it.

No, she thought looking at the bottles in her hand, they would go after the chickens again. Or the dogs, or something else with blood. She hit the intercom. "Sparda?"

"Yes, milady?"

"Your sons are gone again. You go look for them, I don't want to find where they are when they pounce on my ankles and start gnawing again." They found anything that moved fascinating, pouncing on balls and then hitting them away to pounce on them again over and over.

"Don't worry milady, I have them."

"You have them? Why didn't you tell me?"

"You were sleeping, milady."

"Why didn't you turn off the alarm clock for the 5 am feeding?"

She could almost hear the tilt of his head over the phone. "I thought it was 6 am."

"Not since last week." She shook her head. "Matier said when they start killing small animals that means they need more iron in their diet and we should give them a bottle of blood when they wake up. Weren't you paying attention?"

"They went after small animals?"

"They've kept going after the chickens? And my ankles?"

"Both human and demon children feed from their mothers, and I thought they merely played with the chickens?"

"They did kill two. And we agreed I wasn't breast-feeding them since we couldn't train them out of chomping on my breasts."

There was an incessant jingling noise in the background, suddenly interrupted by what her experienced ears could tell was a pounce and the beginning of a wrestling match. "They have been biting each other more…" Sparda said thoughtfully.

"Where are you? The library?"

"Yes, milady."

"Bring them down to the kitchen, they always eat messily and I'm sure you don't want blood all over your hoard."

"Yes, milady."

Eva headed back to the kitchen, where she had just come from. Sparda soon joined her, carrying Vergil in his arms and with Dante playing King of the Mountain on his shoulders. That always instinctively made her worry whichever was doing it this time might fall, but they had better balance than humans. She put the bottles down on the counter.

Both Dante and Vergil recognized the bottles and started reaching out for them, babbling away. "Help me get them in the chairs."

The two of them only wriggled a little while being buckled in their high-chairs, knowing they wouldn't get the bottles until they were in them. Eva then handed them the bottles, which they promptly bit the nipples off of and spit them out before suckling greedily.

"Where have you been getting the blood?" Sparda asked quizzically.

"A bit from each of the cows, mixed with some of mine."

"I could have done that, mi…"

She waved him silent. "I'm not bothered by a little blood."

Vergil stopped suckling to gurgle happily, "Bwa."

Vergil finished his first and tried to hit Dante with the bottle, but he was out of range. Dante laughed and tried to hit him back, their bottles banging against each other and blood flying everywhere as the two of them laughed.

"Kssku!" Dante croaked out.

Eva looked at Sparda. "Huh?"

He shook his head. "I think that was an attempt at kaasklu, which approximately translates to, hold still and surrender." They were each speaking their own languages around the children so they would hopefully grow up bilingual. They would have to learn the rest of the languages of both earth and the Underworld when they were older.

"Fwih!" Vergil responded.

Eva and Sparda looked at each other and shrugged. There weren't any more recognizable attempts at words in the 'conversation,' the twins talking their own private baby language and their parents standing out of range.

"Are you sure they're supposed to be fighting so much at this stage? Matier said they shouldn't be going at each other until they were three."

Sparda shrugged. "I don't remember my own infancy, but the blood of the islanders is rather watered down. The Underworld is not a safe place for the weak: it is best for children to start building their skills early."

The fight ended as quickly as it had begun, Dante biting into his plastic bottle to try to lick out the inside. Vergil waved his at Dante a little longer before grumping and doing the same.

"Did they try to teethe on your books again?" Eva asked, watching the bits of plastic bottle go all over the floor.

"I gave them Yamato."

"I don't like seeing their mouths get cut up like that, even if it does heal in a second. Call me an overprotective mother."

"It's good for them to learn that there are sharp things around. And Yamato doesn't mind. I am its wielder and master, and to guard children is a worthy task."

"I'm not giving them guns until they're five at least." Eva shook her head. "At least that will limit them to only destroying the things within reach."

"Oh, they should have worked out how to climb the walls by the time summer comes, milady."

"Swell." The babies had finished and were trying to undo the straps on the chairs. Good luck: Sparda had enchanted them. "We'd better wash them again, they're splattered."

"And the kitchen." Having human staff around these two was just too dangerous, and Matier's offer of a nursemaid had stirred up Sparda's protective instincts: no other demons around his younglings. Fortunately the castle was littered with centuries worth of helpful enchantments. The 'kitchen of the past' Eva had called it, watching the pots and pans float in midair as something was cooked.

Eva unbuckled Vergil and then Dante, glad she was wearing an already wrecked apron. They made happy sounds and Dante tried to nibble on her fingers in greeting. Eva thwacked him on the head. "Ouch! No." They were still trying to train them out of biting people besides each other. They couldn't be taken out in public if they would try to eat people who cooed over them.

And a lot of people would coo over them, they were absolutely adorable. Rosy healthy skin and silver hair. "Who're the cutest babies in the whole world? Oh yesh you are!" She gathered them up into her arms and nuzzled their soft heads. Vergil was interested in her tummy and tried to bite through her apron to her breast. It hurt, but the healing energy in the blue orbs she wore all the time around them took care of it. "Ouch! No!" She hit him lightly.

Sparda shook his head. "You'll have to be sterner, milady. They're not even going to notice a little hit like that."

Eva sighed, "I know, it's just hard to be tough on them. I know you say I should shoot them, but…"

Sparda patted her soothingly on the shoulder. "Children need limits, humans as well as demons, and I think it best they learn that humans are easily hurt and that it is wrong to do so as early on as possible."

"You're right, but I still don't feel right about it. My father used to thrash me, and it never did any good, except piss me off. I don't want them to think I'm too strict. And they're just kids. I know they're not as fragile, but…" She rocked them as Vergil yawned, Dante following him.

Sparda blurred and reappeared by her side. "I've got the bath going."

Eva nodded. "I'll carry them down. You get it the right temperature." As they left the kitchen it started to rain inside it, washing down the chairs, floor, and every other surface in range of the twins.

The castle had a hot spring in the caverns beneath it, she didn't know if it was natural or not. She could ask, but she didn't really care. Sparda was letting water from the spring flow into a small pool and mix with the right amount of cold water before flowing out again.

She barely blinked to see him in demon form now, she'd gotten used to it. And it wasn't very practical to wear courtly garb while washing two dirty babies. She handed the 'helpless infants' over to the insectoid killing machine without batting an eye, before sitting down on the edge of the pool and dangling her feet in the water.

"Wa wa!" Dante and Vergil had yelled and clapped their hands when they saw the pool. They loved baths.

Sparda put them down in the one to two feet deep steaming water and they happily splashed around, occasionally holding contests to see who could hold their breath the longest. Eva had used a stopwatch once and clocked one of them (she wasn't sure which: they were naked in the bath and they were so identical she couldn't tell which was which unless they were wearing red and blue) at 5 minutes fourteen seconds.

After they'd calmed down a bit Eva grabbed one and Sparda took the other and they started to wash the blood off of them with lavender soap.

Eva hummed a little tune under her breath while she rubbed the child's hair. She was oddly content with this.

Sure, she'd loved playing with baby dolls when she was a kid, but she hadn't really been prepared for the sheer amount of work being a mother was. All the mothers where she'd grown up had nannies for their children, too.

Just the normal things were incredibly time consuming, waking up in the middle of the night to feed them, constant baths, changing diapers… and that was leaving aside the problems of raising half-demon children.

They were going through so many bottle tops alone…

She would have thought she'd be annoyed and frustrated and wanting to strangle them (she probably could, and they would be fine), but she was loving it.

Being a mother was a very different occupation from saving the world, but it was equally… engaging? Requiring her to be on the ball at all times? Important?

Some were thinking the world would be better off without her kids, but in _her_ opinion, taking care of them was just as important as the world. Especially since the world had lots of defenders, but Dante and Vergil had only one mother. "All right, you're done." She put him back down in the pool. "Want a floaty toy? I bet you do!" She walked over to the baskets by the door and grabbed several rubber duckies.

Sparda had let the other one in the pool as well. They were both playing tug-on-the-wings-and-hide-behind-daddy now. Sparda kept turning to pretend to try to tag them, only doing so occasionally. It was a fun game, pretend hunting or combat like so many of them were.

Eva tossed a ducky in the pool. It bobbed up and down for a bit before one of them swum over to it and whapped it, pushing it underwater.

It bobbed up again.

The child hit it again, babbling.

It bobbed up again.

The other one swum over and hit it.

The first one tried to grab it while it was underwater. The other one seemed to think this was unfair and grabbed it when it reached the surface and hid it behind his back. Eva tried to figure out where they'd learned to stick tongues out at people.

She tried tossing another ducky in the pool but they ignored it. The ducky escaped from the grip and bobbed to the surface. The first child pounced on it and bit it, shaking it. The one who had just lost it made an unhappy noise, watching him.

Sparda picked up the ducky and shook it in front of the ducky-less child, who watched it mesmerized. It was moving! It was funny to watch the child's head and eyes move from side to side, magnetically attracted to the prey toy.

Finally, he pounced! Sparda shook the toy, making him work to keep his grip on it for a bit before letting him have it.

They both chewed on their duckies in contentment.

"Who're the cute widdle hunters? No, I mean big stwong hunters! You are!" So cute! She smiled at Sparda, who was smiling back. She'd gotten good at working out expressions on his demonic face.

After a while, she started to wave another ducky in the air. After they both noticed it, she tossed it in. It bounced off Sparda, then the side of the pool before one of them pounced it. She quickly waved another one in the face of the child who hadn't gotten it, the way Sparda had, with the same result. She then dumped the other five duckies she'd gotten in the water and sat down on the edge again, kicking her legs before she noticed the babies eyeing them and stilled. "What were you reading to them in the library?"

"_The Five Rings._ It's a swordsmanship training manual, but the ideas of discipline have other applications."

"Is…" Isn't that a bit early, she almost said, but bit it back. They were growing so fast… "When are you thinking of giving them practice swords?"

He shook his head. "I'm not going to give them practice swords, I'm going to give them Yamato and Rebellion."

Eva looked down at the babies and the image of one of them, about two feet high, wielding a sword three times their height and kicking ass swam into her head. "When, though?"

He shrugged. "Whenever they are ready. They seem to be developing rather fast by demonic standards."

"Precocious little things." She smiled. "By human standards too."

"They should be as intelligent as a human adult by 6 at the latest, at this rate, if still lacking maturity. Probably five would be closer."

"Five?" She whistled. They were playing swat-the-duckies again. "Maybe I should start them on guns earlier than I was thinking, then."

"We have time to decide. Apparently, parents are expected to make huge mistakes with their eldest children. And they should be smart enough to recover from it." A half-smile.

"Yeah, when they're old enough we don't have to watch them twenty-four/seven," her hand reached out to his, entwined her fingers with talons, "then we can have those daughters."

"I think having younger sisters to look after would be instructive for them." How strange, to be having a parenting conversation with an eight foot or so insect-man. Devil. Or, really, not strange. They'd gone over this before.

"And hopefully our reflexes will be so hair-trigger by then four won't be that much tougher than one." Two more of the duckies were being chewed on.

"Indeed, milady." An echoing laugh. The sound made the babies laugh as well, turning to their papa. Eva joined in.

"Look, those are the last two duckies… I'll go get a couple more." She got three and tossed them all in, smiling as they swam to go get them. "Wait until you're old enough to duck hunt for _real_. Mommy'll teach you how to shoot, and we'll go to one of those hunting parties rich people have and amaze them with how good we are, oh yesh we will."

Sparda ran his talons through the hair of one of them. "You will be strong warriors, able to stand against all comers… but you will not need to for years yet."

"Because they'll have us to look after them." Eva nodded.

The babies appeared to regard their parents' voices as a comfortable background drone, much less interesting than the rubber target practice. "Should we be teaching them to go after birds? I mean, look what they did to the chickens. Maybe we should have somebody make rubber _demons_. That would be a little more realistic."

Sparda laughed. "Do we really want them seeking out demons to chew on the next time they break out?"

Eva laughed. "You're right." They watched the babies dispatch the remaining rubber duckies, then one of them swum up to Sparda and the other to Eva. Their parents picked them up. "I think they want to be dried off."

Sparda spread his wings and flew over to grab a couple of fluffy red and blue monogrammed towels off of the racks. He tossed her the red one, which she easily snatched out of the air. "I _wish_ I could do what you do to fly even though you're very… not aerodynamic."

Vergil cooed, kicking his feet wrapped in the warmed blue towel. She rubbed Dante with the red one to dry him off. He gave her a big wet sloppy hug. "No, don't… drat." She was trying to watch her language around the children, they were picking up on all the wrong things. "Now I'm the dirty one." She was still wearing the blood-splattered apron. "Let me take this off… there we go." She left it on the rim of the pool. "Now Mommy will pick you up." She rubbed the few streaks of blood off of him with the towel. "There we go… I swear, it's like they're magnetically attracted to dirtyness."

Sparda had switched back to his usual human form, and came to join her carrying Vergil. "My two thousand years of observing humans have left me with the opinion that that is a general trait of young children, milady."

"You're probably right." She rocked Dante, who waved at Vergil and Sparda. "See, there's your Daddy and your twin. Say hi." He stopped waving and nuzzled her. "He's not chewing on me." Bite. "Da… Drat, jinxed it. Ouch! No!" Thwack.

He seemed to realize he'd done something wrong this time, blinking up at her. "Biting people hurts them. More than it hurts you. Oh, why am I trying to explain…" She looked helplessly at Sparda. "How are you supposed to tell a one year old that they're different from everyone else in the world?"

"Not everyone else. There are the Guardian Tribe, and of course his twin." Sparda rocked Vergil, who was watching Eva, looking puzzled.

"You yourself said they're watered down. But there is Vergil." She waved at Vergil. "Alone together… You know, the more I think about it, the more glad I am we had twins, even if it is twice the work."

Sparda nodded. "They will always have someone who understands them as even we will not."

"I don't get them and they're not even teenagers yet," Eva agreed. "Good… goodness, what are they going to be like as teenagers?" She shuddered. "What if they rebel? Wait a minute, how would they rebel? Be lazy and not try to save the world? Be normal and get a nine-to-five job?"

"The mind boggles." Sparda agreed.

Something suddenly occurred to Eva. "What time is it?"

"Almost 7 am."

"When did you wake them up?"

"I went to check on them at 3 and found them awake."

"I'm so lucky you need less sleep than I do." She shuddered at the thought of not having him to do midnight feedings. "I think it's time for a nap."

"I believe they drifted off part of the time I was reading."

"Let's put them in their room and see."

Sparda nodded and led the way. When they got to the twins' room, first they dressed them and then they put them down on the ground. The two of them looked at each other, exchanged a few sounds, then reached to be picked up again. When that didn't work they carefully stood up, so their arms could reach up higher to attract Sparda's and Eva's attention.

"Yep, they need a nap. They're not crawling off to find toys." Eva picked up Dante and walked over to their bed. "Come on, naptime for you." She put him down on the bed, where Sparda soon placed Vergil beside him. The twins just sat there.

"They're not crawling under the covers." The twins crawled all the way under the covers the way she had huddled when beset by night terrors as a child. Sparda said they were indeed trying to hide themselves to keep safe, by instinct.

Sparda followed the twins' gazes. "I think they're looking at their pillow fort."

"Do you want to nap over there?" They made grabbing motions in the direction of the pile of pillows. "Looks like a yes." She picked Dante up again and set him down on the mammoth pile of pillows. He soon squirmed his way in, Vergil following. Eva could see the pillows shift as they were moved into place and soft little contented sounds as they settled in for their nap. "Well, that was painless. If they're this willing to nap in the fort, I say let them."

"Yes, they didn't fuss… you know, that reminds me of how I and my twin slept as children."

"Only pillows and not… the Underworld equivalent." She looked at the pile piercingly for a few more seconds and then turned back to Sparda. "I think we have an hour before they wake up."

He kissed her hand. "Shall we make use of it?"

"What'dya think?" Kiss.


	18. Interlude: Perfect Moment

_Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry. _

_This is a gift for tenamanda1988, who drew fanart of the Sparda family. There's a link to it on my bio. She requested a fic matching the scene in the picture. _

_-_

This was one of those peaceful days. She hadn't imagined herself as a housewife in years. When she was a child, of course, it had been her destiny, but she'd preferred books to dolls. Well, she'd liked looking at dolls in pretty dresses, because they were pretty, but no more so than a painting.

When they were put down on the carpet in the library, the children had crawled over to Sparda and tugged at his legs, then pushed, pulled, babbling to each other and to Sparda, cheerful little noises, noises of effort.

Eva had been puzzled, they didn't seem to be trying to climb up, but Sparda had, after a while, dropped to his knees. Then they had crawled to his torso, congratulating each other, and tried to push him down the rest of the way.

When Sparda was vanquished, lying on the ground, Dante had crowed with delight and climbed on his back. Sparda propped his head up on one hand and turned so he could see Dante out of the corner of his eye, smiling at the little conqueror.

Vergil crawled to the other side of Sparda, watching him wide-eyed. He was always the quiet one. Eva knelt down next to him and put her fingers on his back, to see if he wanted to play with her, but he kept watching Sparda and Dante, like he was thinking about something.

So cute, her little intellectual.

Dante said something in their private language and Vergil also climbed up on Sparda's back. They were still in their little pajamas with hands and feet, it was so cute!

Dante tugged on Sparda's hair and made a commanding sound. Sparda carefully got on his hands and knees and, at another command, began to walk around the room. Vergil clapped his hands in delight. Eva walked alongside and patted his cute little head.

Imagine, a devil playing horsy for two little babies. Her babies, their babies.

The dark knight, who had been so feared. He wasn't wearing his coat, but a purple vest over a white shirt and dress slacks looked formal enough. Or, should she say, far too formal for such an activity.

"Keep doing that," she ordered him, and ran for the camera.

Escape training now went to a much happier use, as she was back with the camera in under a minute. Vergil and Dante stared at it, distracted from the spectacle of the room at Daddy-back height. It was the flashy-thing!

"Smile!" she ordered them, but they were staring like owls, not wanting to blink and miss the flash. Well, this was cute too. "One, two, three…" They closed their eyes on the one, and opened them on three, so they wouldn't need to blink during the flash. "Say cheese!"

She put the camera on Sparda's desk after taking the shot. He would develop it later, there was a darkroom in the castle: he'd been fascinated by photography. She would have baby pictures to show her children's future dates… They would be so embarrassed, so cute!

Dante jumped off Sparda's back to crawl over to the desk and try to see if he could get the flashy-thing this time. He'd managed to get it once, luckily Sparda had seen and retrieved it before he could take it apart.

She wondered what they would be, besides demon hunters. They would have to be that. At least until Mundus was dead. Well, that was years away, and Sparda had managed to defeat him on his own before. Would they be doctors, lawyers, she doubted politicians, people would worry about that, would either of them be interested in the bank, there were always poor people who could be helped by a decent loan…

Their lives stretched out before her, looking at Vergil follow Dante over to the desk as Sparda sat and watched. Home schooled, they had agreed, then when they were old enough to understand they had to be careful, college, then… Who knew?

Sparda clapped his hands and the children crawled back to him, nuzzled his outstretched hands. He rubbed the tops of their heads and they made noises that sounded like purring, inching closer. He carefully picked them up and walked over to her. She held her arms out, and he gave them into her keeping.

"Ouch! No." She swatted Vergil lightly when he bit her. Vergil licked his lips, smiling at the treat and clearly unrepentant.

"Milady…" Sparda chided her.

"Vergil?" She got his attention. "No!" Harder, this time.

"I'm sorry, Milady. Small bites are a way of showing affection, so they don't understand yet that they hurt you."

"It's not their fault." She kissed Vergil twice, then Dante so he didn't feel left out. Then she kissed them both again. So cute, she couldn't resist! "They just love their mommy, and their mommy loves them oh so very much!" More kisses.

Sparda smiled in a way that said better than words, "That's my Eva, the one I love." For what? She accepted him, she loved her babies. Their babies. They looked just like him! And they'd be just as noble as him when they grew up. They'd have women acting like fools around them (must teach them not to be sexist pigs!) , they were so amazingly handsome. "So cute!" More kisses.

Vergil nuzzled her, Dante joining in. She squeezed them, looking down at them and feeling Sparda's warmth like the sun's on her hair.

Her children could feel how much she loved them, feed on it. And she wanted them to be big and strong. She nuzzled them, the soft hair on the tops of their heads, and half of her wanted it to always be like this and the other half wanted it to be twenty years later so she could see what they would become.

But no, she didn't want to miss a second of them growing up.

Was this why women hadn't resisted being chained to the home? Surely not everyone was as lucky as her in having the perfect husband and babies.


	19. XIIb Predestination

_Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry. _

_I'm holding off on Eva's death scene until the novel comes out, which will be sometime in June according to Tokyopop. This story will probably undergo drastic editing to be compliant with it. _

-

Vergil and Dante were drowsy but not cranky about the fact they were drowsy and acting up. She loved times like this.

She loved to peel the blanket away from them when they were asleep and look at their faces before they woke up and wanted the blanket back, but there was nothing like holding one of them in her arms when they were too tired to bite and just rocking him, listening to little content sounds.

She loved the baby in her arms so much she could feel her heart about to burst from the pressure. She leaned against Sparda on the couch, he holding Vergil in the same way she held Dante, and loved them both as well.

She felt heartbreakingly happy. It was snowing outside, they could see it through the big window. The room was decorated in deep blacks, blues, reds and of course purple: the silver snow completed it.

She knew of course the snow wasn't as soft as Sparda's hair. She would pet it but her hands were busy with her baby.

He was never cold, unless he was really angry, but never at her. She could feel the heat of his body through his clothes. Hotter than a human, but it was a good thing.

Dante pawed at the fringe of the red shawl she wore. Silence reigned, there had been a record of a concert, classical music, playing but it had ended some time ago.

She didn't want to break the silence to say anything with words, so she was glad Sparda knew how she felt.

Sparda was stroking Vergil's hair as she had wanted to stroke his. Vergil reached for one of his fingers and tugged it into his mouth, just to suck, not biting. Sparda removed it after a second and pet him to show he wasn't angry.

She was smiling softly. This was much better than going to a real concert. She'd said she missed their dates, but this was better. Just the family.

The snow fell, the fire burnt, its warmth added to Sparda's and the warmth in her heart.

The amulet around her neck was just a bit chilly. It always was. It wasn't as heavy as she felt it should be. The key to the world should be a weighty thing, a hard burden to carry.

Dante was heavier already.

Sparda guarded her and she guarded the necklace. It was safe, she didn't have to worry about it as she did too adventurous children. "I think they're asleep," she whispered eventually.

He nodded. "Let's put them to bed." She was loathe to give up this moment, but she didn't want to wake them up later so she got off him so they both could go put them to bed.

They laid them down in their shared bed and pulled the blanket up to cover them. They were already in their pajamas.

They left, turning out the light, and closed the door. Sparda pressed his hand to it and the door disappeared. Yet another safety precaution. They slept in Sparda's castle, at the heart of his domain, behind all his wards and still they used every trick they could. Something happening to the babies was unthinkable.

He held out his arm to her. "Shall we go?"

"Yes."

More spells on another door and they were in a townhouse in Paris.

Watching Dante and Vergil drop off to sleep had made her tired in sympathy, but they could still dance the rest of the night away. Sparda's spell would make sure they slept through the night.

It was cheating, but they didn't want to risk a babysitter.

He led her to where music played and they danced under a balcony, beneath the stars set in midnight blue that reminded her of him. Everything did.

And then she heard a noise, felt an impact on the back of her head and felt the familiar sensation of a gold orb activating.

She'd just been killed by a sniper. That must have been a _really_ enchanted bullet, given how many blue orbs she was packing, she thought distantly.

She dived beneath a table. What was it with snipers? Well, of course no one was stupid enough to try close range against the freaking Legendary Dark Knight.

…and the bullets were enchanted enough to drill right through the table. And, apparently, to kill her even if they just hit her hand. She'd heard of a gun like that, called the golden gun… the hunters who had trained her had been trying to get a hold of one.

Anyone trying this would have thought ahead enough to have spells to see through walls. It had been stupid to run for cover in the first place. How many shots did they have?

Sparda had gone after them.

Of course they would have concealment spells, it might take even him a few more seconds to find them, although she'd felt him grab the bullet from her neck, he could track them with that.

So she might as well leave cover and help him track them down. Only she had no idea which direction the bullet had come from.

Damn it. She felt totally useless.

Damn it! She'd been shot again!

Should she try keeping moving? No, the bullets would be tracers. Should she set up a protection spell? No, if Sparda hadn't bothered to do one that meant there wasn't anything that would stop the bullets that could be set up quickly enough to do any good.

She might as well leave cover. She wanted a good view of the area in case they sent in anyone to finish her off after Sparda went to chase after the gunman. That was what _she_ would do.

She drew her guns and went to the center of the dancing area. No, she didn't see anything. Everyone had cleared out by now.

Someone dropped down out of the sky carrying another person. Sparda.

"I swore a long time ago not to kill any humans who were not also demons." He kicked the man he carried, obviously the gunman, over to her, eyes cold and she could almost feel the effort it took to restrain the urge to rip and tear, bite and torture this sorcerer for attacking his mate.

Under the circumstances, she could only be grateful he was so protective, she mused as Sparda tore off the remains of his robes, woven with protective spells and she bent over to place her gun against his head and pull the trigger.

Without his spells he was dead. She waited an instant to see if he would revive (a yellow orb might revive him _anywhere_ and then Sparda would have to track him down _again_), but he didn't: Sparda must have gotten all his equipment.

She hid her guns away as flames enveloped the body leaving no trace behind. She looked at Sparda, who looked viciously satisfied to at least destroy the remains of the attacker even if he could not kill him.

"So what was that about?" she asked to break the silence, even though she was pretty sure she knew.

"I will have to see if I can track down where he used to live for evidence, but I suspect humans have been advised of how much Mundus' generals want you dead. He will revive soon, I fear. Sooner than I thought."

"How soon?" So there was a bounty on her head.

"Unless something happens… I would guess around thirty years, given when the increased activity started." He looked around. "We had better leave before the police arrive to ask questions."

"Were we on the guest list?"

"I had to make reservations. I will use fake names in future. And find you a devil arm to protect you." He held out his hand. "We will say we fled when the shooting started. We will have to answer a few questions tomorrow, but it will be explained as a failed assassination."

"Everyone else who was here will be very nervous." She took his hand. He'd handle everything perfectly.

"Unavoidable." He was callous when he wasn't trying not to be. He was a little rattled, the devil nearer the surface. They'd have sex later.

She'd reassure him then, but she hugged him to reassure him now. "Let's go."

They walked, then hailed a taxi back to the townhouse.

As soon as the door was closed behind them he grabbed her, pulled her against him tight. "That was far too close."

"Not really. He only got me three times. He must have had to redo some of the spells every time he reloaded."

"If there had been multiple snipers… you almost died because of me."

"I did die. Only not permanently." She stroked his back. "Let's not dwell on it. Just make sure it never happens again."

"I will find a suitable devil arm, I have many." He took a deep breath. "Humans are ingenious. I fear they will find something else."

"No one lives forever."

"Souls are immortal." He squeezed her. "I don't want to lose you. I don't want our children to grow up without you."

"I don't want that either."

"There is a way. When humans die, if they are not immediately revived by an orb or such their souls leave their bodies and are lost. If I tie your soul to a talisman, then it will seek out that talisman instead of leaving for the Underworld."

"What's the catch?" If there wasn't a catch, he would have recommended this before.

"I need to use a demonic item. The energy might affect your soul. If I used a devil arm, you would assume some of the qualities of that demon."

No.

He went on. "I could use the amulet."

"What would that do?"

"It is only a key, not the lock. It would take centuries for it to do anything."

And she wouldn't live for centuries. "If we did this, then when I die of old age you could clone me or something and stick my soul in the new body." She'd known he wouldn't want to lose her.

"What do you think of that?"

"Well, it might take a while. It's the stuff of science fiction."

"Sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic," he reminded her.

Becoming demonic drove people insane. Still… the amulet was Sparda's power. It wouldn't hurt to become just a _little_ like Sparda?

She could try it out, certainly. She had centuries to decide, right? "Let's go home."

"We will need to be here for the police, but yes. They will make an appointment." He led her to the door.

She had a sudden, horrible fear. "Let's check on the babies."

He was already headed in that direction. Parental paranoia crossed species lines, apparently.

Sparda was homicidal right now. So was she.She'd been so _useless_. All she could do was stand there and wait for her husband to save her. It was like marriage had turned her into a, a _woman_. Your stereotypical… she told her inner rantings to shut up.

Her children.

Damn, here she was being all maternal too, like her children were the be-all and end-all of her existence. Boys, too. Carrying on the family name and all of that.

Still, they were a reason she didn't want to die. Sparda would be a great parent, but he only knew who to be human by experience. He didn't _feel_ human, didn't know humanity from the inside. Every so often he did something, not things a normal person would see but she knew him so well she could tell.

He was just off. He made you not notice.

She wanted her children to have the best of both worlds, Vergil, Dante, and her future daughters.

They didn't seem insane, and they were part human part demon. Neither were the Guardian tribe. But they had been born that way.

She'd seen sorcerers, minds twisted, psychopaths who would kill anyone to get what they wanted. She was a killer, yes, but she had to work hard to be one. She killed because it was the only way to save.

At what point did the ends stop justifying the means? She'd never had a hard decision.

She had one now.

The door was revealed and Sparda strode through, herself right behind him.

He tore away the blanket and there they were, alive and well.

They woke up and started crying. She'd never heard a more beautiful sound.

They would be adult by the time Mundus rose, if Sparda didn't find a way to stop it first. They would have Sparda to train them and she… well, she'd do the best she could. She could teach them guns and explosives. She could love them even though they would encounter people who hated them for what they were and didn't care who they were.

Her children would be heroes, she just knew it.

She let out a deep breath and put her arm on Sparda's shoulder. "I guess I'm a stay-at-home-mom a little more now." He stayed at home too, did most things by mail or spell.

"It should not be this way. You should not be a prisoner. If you were not my wife…"

"If I wasn't your wife I might be dead by now anyway. I wouldn't have access to your collection of gold and blue orbs, and they're hunting hunters, remember?" She pat him on the shoulder. "If you hadn't been there I would have died heroically and pointlessly the night we met. Don't beat yourself up, okay?"

He didn't meet her eyes, gazing instead upon their children who were pulling the blanket back on top of themselves.

"I'm not a devil. So I'm weak. You married me anyway, so now you have to suffer the consequences. I'm sure you'll work everything out, you always do, Mr. Millennia-old-genius."

"There is always another challenge. One day…"

"You beat an army. You won't fail me." She put her arms around him from behind. They were well muscled but now they felt so frail. She didn't want him to be sad. She didn't want him to blame himself.

Even if she only died of old age, he would feel that he hadn't been able to convince her to stay. Would he feel she didn't love him enough to bear a little taint?

She was fornicating with a devil. You couldn't really get more tainted than that. And she was already mad. She'd killed for a purpose already. Just… her purpose was love and protection, not power.

She didn't want her babies to grow up without her. She didn't want Sparda to mourn her.

She didn't really have a choice, did she. Her hand fingered the amulet.

Sparda was already guarding her along with the fate of the world.

Just… she'd made so many compromises. Trading bits of herself away, because she knew every relationship had to work like that, and it was a fair trade: he did the same. This was far more like a human relationship than a demonic one. There were ways she wasn't what he needed. He had to hold back when he fought her, for one. They were a little rough in bed, but not as much as he wanted.

Just… she loved him, loved them. Would her love protect her? It hadn't today.

This was all so perfect. Something had to give.

She didn't want to lose herself. Her soul… bound to something. What if something happened to the amulet?

Clue, Eva. If the amulet's taken the world's screwed. That's more important than you.

Here she was in her early thirties. That was a decent lifespan. Eternity, though, watching people die around her… It was fine for Sparda, he just really didn't care. He might miss talking to someone, but he wouldn't mourn. He wouldn't feel guilty that this person was dead and he was alive. She was human.

Who wants to live forever? A lot of people did enough to give up their humanity, betray humanity, for it. She wouldn't be betraying anyone.

It was till death did them part. She didn't ever want to be parted from him.

Devils could be children for centuries. They were growing up fast for humans, but how knew what their combination would result in? The half-humans that had been born before had been created by gods as servants, not rivals. Sparda had wanted these two to inherit his power, not only a fraction of it.

Their children would keep surprising them.

She wanted to be there to be surprised.

Her children would be human enough to mourn her. She didn't want them too. And Sparda, despite what he was, loved her.

She didn't just trust now, she knew.

She stood there with him in her arms, the amulet pressed between them. His gift to her. She remembered seeing it around his neck and dismissing it as a big ruby. It was really crystallized demon blood, carved from a red orb and enchanted.

He'd given it to her as a gift.

Their children were gifts. She didn't want to squander them. She knew that they would be as important to the world as their father. Maybe that was her pride in them talking. So smart, so strong, so violent… okay, well. They would learn. She had faith in them too.

Faith, hope and charity. Only charity really meant love. Strange that her relationship with a devil would make her so virtuous. She smiled at the irony and let go of him. He turned around to regard her.

"There are so many humans who live on only in my memory. And I have never understood humans, so that is a poor life." He shook his head. "A memory would never make up for the lack of you. It would only torment me."

"We've taken lots of photos?" She'd bought a camera to chronicle the development of the youngsters and they'd both taken many of each other.

"That would be even worse. Your face without your scent, the feel of your skin, your kiss." He reached out to touch her face. "Your touch, your soul. I wish… I wish you had a demon's senses. You love me with such abandon, I wish I could make you _see_, feel, know how much I love you."

"I know you love me."

"But you do not know the glory of it… how much joy your love brings me." He tugged her close and nipped at her hair.

"Yes, I'm just a poor blind naked monkey. Joking, joking," she added when he opened his mouth to defend her.

"By birth, yes, that is what you are. And yet you are _more_. You are you. I have never seen another to match you, and I don't want to lose that. With you… leaving behind my family, my friends, everything I knew, exiling myself here among those foreign to my nature… I did it because it was right, but with you I know it was all worth it." He nuzzled her hair, drawing in a breath. "You will teach our children the value of humanity as well."

That… was a worry. That even with Sparda's example they would grow up to see the vastly inferior humans as toys, as _prey._ Human children were selfish, she remembered her own "_Gimme!_" days well. Couple that with the ability to just reach out and take what they wanted… only their father would be strong enough to oppose them when they were teenagers.

Devils despised the weak, and soon enough she herself would be weaker than them.

They had to teach them early. Everything had to go right, or what would they be unleashing upon the world? They couldn't kill their own children.

They wouldn't have to. Trust, Eva. Trust Sparda. Trust the sweet little babies sleeping curled up together under the blanket, gentle rising and falling of breath. They're not monsters, he's not a monster. It's possible.

She was insane.

Sparda started to stroke her hair and she realized she was shaking, just a little. How many people had been killed by the sorcerer for the spells on those bullets? He couldn't have made many more, or someone would have figured out something was wrong and stopped him. She hadn't come that close to dying, really. She still had dozens of gold orbs, and the yellow ones she also carried would probably have taken her back to the townhouse if she'd run out of gold and had to use them. Out of the line of fire, she could have come back to the castle right away.

She was a hunter, she knew better than to be afraid in the moment. Now it was over…

She didn't want her children to grow up orphans. She didn't want Sparda to have to raise them alone. Would he see her traces in their faces and miss her even worse?

She wanted to stay in his arms forever, wanted to see her children grow up into heroes. No, more than that she wanted them to be happy. Mundus would be sealed away for another two thousand years and they would grow old, give her grandchildren, play with their sisters, find things they loved to do besides just fighting. She would read books to them before tucking them into bed at night…

She had so much to live for and someone who had wanted what she was offered for free had tried to end her life to prolong their own.

Ended up shortening it. Deserved it, the traitor to humanity the sorcerer was. She replayed that final shot, feeling as predatory as Sparda. She'd nailed him. Even if Sparda had had to drag him to her.

It really wasn't choice, was it? Sparda wouldn't let her… stop being who she was. She wouldn't turn into a monster. So she'd be like… one-thousandth demonic in five hundred years. Who knew how much all the energy from the spells she used had already warped her despite all the precautions hunters used.

No one noticed if a hunter became obsessive and killed things. It was the job description. Channeling it in a useful way.

Her hand reached up between them and closed around the amulet. "Do it."

She wondered idly if it would hurt. Sparda wouldn't let it.


	20. XIII Dark Night

Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry. I did take a short course on creating computer games once, but the one I did was set in Prism. Which I do own. Also, I don't own the Calvin and Hobbes reference.

Here it is, the last official Rapture chapter. I'm already feeling nostalgic. I might do side-chapters in future, but that depends.

Who am I kidding, the bunnies will probably swarm me into at least a couple.

/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\

The babies, she still thought of them as babies, even though they were over two years old now, walking and talking a little, were wielding the tiny plastic spoons they were supposed to use to maneuver the cheerios and bits of rabbit cut up small into their mouths.

They were being good tonight, only one attempt at a food fight. With the cheerios. She'd threatened to take the rabbit away and they'd behaved.

"Vergil, Dante, eat up and then you can watch The Hobbit again." They perked up.

"Ewlves."

"Gobbins."

"Yes, the wood-elves and goblins are funny. Now eat up." She glanced at the clock. Sparda had left eight hours ago, saying he would be home in time for breakfast.

She had been mending the spells on her trenchcoat (a good hunter took care of their equipment) and had merely mmhmmed and kissed him goodbye on the cheek. She wished now she had asked where he was going, she could have made a phone call… he was never late, someone must be keeping him late.

He was probably trapped in a rather rude conversation now, and if she could call whatever hunter it was and be very cross he would have an excuse to head home. Henpecked. She smiled at the thought.

Vergil bit through his spoon. He tried to hide that he had, continuing to eat with just one half of it and spitting it out covertly, but Eva spotted him. "Vergil, what did I tell you about destroying things?"

"Swowy Mommy."

"I know you are, but you have to be more careful." She got him another plastic spoon and took the rabbit away.

"Mommy!" He reached after it, eyes wide.

"I'm sorry, Vergil, but I told you I would take it away if you broke anything during the meal. You're a big boy now, and good children don't break things." She pat him on the head.

Dante stuck out his tongue. He tried to do it behind Eva's back, but her mother-radar, honed over years of dealing with these too, caught it. "Dante…"

"…swowy?" He tried to look angelic.

She took his rabbit away too. Vergil stuck his tongue out at Dante.

"Boys…" She glared.

"Swowy, Mommy," they said in unison.

"Am I going to have to not give you any at lunch?"

"No, Mommy."

"Good. Now I'll go put this in the refrigerator and if you're good and don't break anything while I'm gone you can have this with your veggies for lunch."

"Yesh, Mommy."

"And no food fights, or I'll have to get the shotgun."

"Yesh, Mommy."

"Good boys." She left the dining room and they industriously ate their cheerios, sitting in their little high-chairs.

So much smarter than human children would be at this age, even if they didn't always act like it. And she cursed the day they had learned that talking baby talk even when they could talk properly was cute.

The magic kitchen had made waffles today. She loved waffles, but she wanted to wait to eat with Sparda.

She was getting hungry. Where was he? Well, really, he said breakfast and breakfast had just started. Nothing to be concerned about.

…why had she thought concerned? When had she ever had to worry about him?

She shook her head. Just that time of the month, that was all. She was just peeved she'd had to sleep in an empty bed.

She should just start eating now, he would be back soon. She took the plate and glass out to the table with the boys.

"Hewwo, Mommy." Dante waved hello. He seemed to like waving.

"Hello you two." She kissed each of them on the head. "Daddy's not back yet so Mommy's going to eat with you."

They looked at her plate. They obviously smelled the sugar. She liked pouring maple syrup all over her waffles, really soaking them. Even now she didn't hunt as often she still kept in good shape, so she didn't have to worry about her weight. "Yes, you can have bits." She cut them each a tiny, bite-sized piece and fed it to them. "Say thank you."

"Twanks, Mommy."

"Good boys." They ate in silence, the two of them on their best behavior. Taking the rabbit away had dampened their spirits.

She had to maintain her authority. If they thought they could challenge her position in the 'pack'… she didn't want to ever have to fight with them. It was hard enough to discipline them, if they seriously challenged her authority she might have to really hurt them.

So she let them watch her train on occasion, and really showed off then. Although they respected Sparda more than her. Well, fathers were usually the authority figure, and they knew Sparda would be tougher on them because he didn't have her damnably soft heart.

She found herself eating very slowly, so when he came back she would be able to eat the rest with him, but eventually she finished up. The boys were growing restive waiting for her, so she took their spoons away before there was another impromptu swordfight.

"Okay," she muttered, unbuckling them from their high chairs, "Let's go watch the movie."

They clapped and smiled. Little angels.

When they were asleep. Little devils when they were awake. She had to keep on her toes…

She put them down on the ground and took Vergil's hand, bending down slightly. Vergil took Dante's and they walked along like a mother duck followed by goslings.

The castle had a home theatre. The castle had everything. Though she didn't dim the lights because she had to keep her eye on those two. Last time she'd went to get popcorn they'd ripped the armrests off two of the chairs and been happily whacking each other with them.

She couldn't even say "it's only fun until someone loses an eye," because they'd just grow it right back.

"Sit down and I'll start the movie." They did so, waiting wide-eyed.

There it went. Now they would be safely mesmerized until it ended. But she couldn't quite count on that, so she sat in the room with them, watching it for the bajillionth time.

She kept hearing little noises, but they always turned out to be from the soundtrack or from Vergil drumming his feet, annoying Dante, until she told him to stop.

Where _was_ Sparda?

After the movie she took them to the playroom and they got out the padded bats. She'd had an argument with Sparda about those bats. He'd said pain was the best teacher and they should have unpadded ones, she'd said if they were whacking each other with real wooden ones she'd flinch every time, demon children or no.

She locked the door behind her and breathed a sigh of relief. The room was escape-proof, due to a seal Sparda had set, and what went on in there was not her problem.

Dante and Vergil weren't tattle-tales, and it wasn't like they would kill each other, though Vergil had banged on the door worried once because Dante had gotten knocked unconscious somehow. He'd been awake when Sparda had opened the door, at any rate. No harm done.

Now she could check out the phone.

The spell that kept a record of who had called had a blank. Someone had called just before Sparda had left last night, but the number was protected somehow from being registered. Usually Sparda made a note of who it was when he left, but he hadn't this time. Had he just forgotten?

Demonic activity had been down since the flare-up right after they had found out she was pregnant… there hadn't been anything too serious since the wedding.

Had something happened that made Sparda have to rush off?

Surely people would know about it if there had been?

She made some calls.

The Redgraves hadn't called, and had no idea that anything was up, ditto Matier, ditto the Swiss hunters, ditto everyone else she could think of. No one had seen him either.

After a couple hours she straightened up and went to go check on the boys.

They were working on a puzzle. Big gaily colored wooden blocks with teeth marks on them. They'd solved it before, but they'd started solving some puzzles over and over recently. Like watching the same things over and over.

The room wasn't messy enough she could justify telling them to clean it, and pitching in a little herself. Cleaning. What was she thinking?

She picked them each up and kissed them.

She expected them to ask about Sparda, but they didn't. He had the business, and demon hunting, he was often gone, herself less often.

She propped the door open so she would hear the phone if it rang. She'd asked them to call her back if they heard anything, and sat down on the floor with them to help with the puzzle.

Then they got out another puzzle, and tossed a ball, and before she knew it their little tummies were growling.

Time for lunch.

They seemed subdued. She thought they had probably caught the mood from her, they could sense such things not quite as well as their father, but… another reason she rarely took them out in public.

She either had to worry about them acting oddly in front of people who didn't know, or feeling the prejudice of people who did know. But they were a family, they had each other.

They cheered up a little when she had the rabbit heated up and gave it to them again. Sparda had made it. She thought nutmeg was involved.

Apparently he'd picked up cooking after someone had tried to poison him and got interested in it. Two thousand years had been a lot of time to kill.

Time…

The children were looking at her and then looking at each other. Finally, Vergil, who was the leader of the two, spoke up. "Mommy? Yowre not happy."

"Did we do something wong again?" Dante blinked at her, worried.

She smiled, reaching out and hugging each of them. "It's not you boys, I'm just a little worried. Your daddy's not home yet."

"Where is daddy?"

"That's the thing, I don't know." She stroked their hair. "Silly of me, huh? Your daddy's big and strong, so I shouldn't be worried." She smiled. "You know what? I should be angry. Here he is being late, making me worry… he had _better_ be out picking up a surprise present for me or have some other _real_ good reason, otherwise he's going to be sleeping on the couch for a while."

They blinked. "Can we sweep on the cowch?" Dante asked, excited.

"No, you can't. It's something grownups who are married make the other person do when they're angry at them and don't want…" She wasn't even mentioning things that went on in beds to two-year-olds. "Them to get a good night's rest."

"Mommy is mean." Vergil pouted.

'You bet I am." Eva smiled and pet them again. "Hurry and eat up, okay?"

Five minutes later, she added, "I meant, hurry up and eat _without_ getting blood all over yourselves. Okay boys, time for a bath."

They brightened up, and if they were older and stupider she thought they might have tried to high-five each other behind her back. "Did you do this just to get a bath?"

They tried to look innocent. And failed. Failed _miserably_. "I'm going to change your clothes and give you a _sponge_ bath. With really cold water."

Their faces fell. "Good boys don't get messy just so they can go play. _Good_ boys stay clean and have a better chance of having rabbit for dinner." Not that regular good children would be eating almost-raw rabbit… whatever.

She was almost considering this normal. Well, she supposed you could get used to anything over this long. Nothing bad happened, after all.

She and Sparda were happily married, the children were joys, even if they were evil incarnate… she was really just happy. Happier than killing stuff made her, even.

She led them over to the bathroom and they wriggled to get away from the sponge when it was each of their turns. "Come on, the sooner you get cleaned the sooner it's over," she chided them.

"There we go." She started to rub Vergil dry.

"Not bwue!" The one she now realized was Dante wriggled away.

"Hey, that's my towel!" Vergil pouted.

"Sorry, boys." _Sparda_ could tell them apart right away. Well, to be fair, she could figure it out after being around them for a bit. They were already developing distinctive personalities.

Dante was more outgoing and adventurous but Vergil was the ringleader: although he thought up mischief less often whenever they _both_ did something she knew who to blame.

Well, he was the eldest after all, her little general.

She toweled them off briskly, it wasn't that cold in the halls but she didn't… wait a minute, they wouldn't come down with anything. She still had these motherly instincts.

"Wait here and I'll get you some new clothes, okay?" Dropping the splattered ones down the laundry chute.

"Yesh, mommy."

When she came back, hot water was pouring into the tub. "Oh no you don't." She turned it off, them trying to push her away from the tub by her knees. It was hard not to show she was fighting to stay in reach. So strong… "I'm going to dry you off again and then I'm going to read you a story like we always do after lunch. Just for that, no hot bath tonight."

"Bwa Mommy!"

"Don't but Mommy me. You know you're not supposed to play with the plumbing." She shook her finger at them.

"Bwa daddy's sposed to wead us a stowy, and daddyz not here!" One of them pouted.

"No, he isn't, so you'll just have to make do with me. You're lucky your daddy's not here, he might not read you a story at all."

They gulped.

She was able to put their clothes on without a fuss, she'd guessed correctly the one that had spoken up then was Vergil.

Reading them _Hamster Huey and the Gooey Kablooie_ also distracted her, especially making the correct sounds. Same book every day for a week now, Sparda had told her. It had been a gift.

Apparently Sparda did the noises better. That wounded her pride slightly.

"All right boys, Mommy has to go see if she can find your daddy."

They nodded.

"And it's time for your nap."

They pouted. Obviously they had been hoping she'd forgotten. "Not likely, boys." She shooed them along.

She tucked them in, kissed them good day and locked the door.

What should she do now? There had been no calls (she checked) and surely they would have called?

She called them all again anyway.

"Come on, you're not worried, are you? He's the Great Dark Knight Sparda, what could happen?" Tony Jr tried to tell her. How had he known she was worried?

"No, I'm not worried. I'm just ticked. He said breakfast and it's past lunch already. He's never this late."

"Sounds worried to me. Look, the seal's still up or we'd know about it. The seal runs off his power, right? He's less powerful because the seal seals his _own_ power too and uses that to keep running."

Her breath caught. "…how did you know that?" That was a secret.

The legend said Sparda had lost his powers. The legend also said he'd become a human and married someone way back then instead of now.

Sparda had been using his skills to keep people from figuring out that he was weaker than he had been when he defeated Mundus. With over two thousand years of experience he rarely _needed_ much raw power, not against humans at any rate.

He had only told her when they were married.

"Elementary physics. You don't get something from nothing. Thanks for confirming it by the way."

She groaned.

"Anyways, if he died, something should happen to the seal. Collapse, I don't know what. Weaken, maybe. But there hasn't been any increase in incursions. Nothing major has happened in the last twenty-four hours, same as I told you earlier. And shouldn't it take something big to take him out? Sure, there've been a couple of portals, but people went there as usual and nothing weird happened. Well, weird for us."

"The seal doesn't work that way."

"What?"

"Nothing." She wasn't going to tell them Sparda dying wouldn't break the seal.

When a strong enough demon was defeated or killed, its soul went to its Devil Arm. Sparda's sword was, as the legend said, sealing the gate. So his spirit would go there, and the seal would stay active. Only the three proper keys could break it, and Sparda had been careful to stay unaware of where the Priestess's descendants were.

Why was she thinking of that? Surely he hadn't been taken to break the seal?

She was being paranoid. Paranoid.

"Look, can you get me reports from as many portal openings recently as you can? I'll ask everyone else too." She tapped her pen on the desk.

"…You really think this is serious, Eva?"

"This has _never _happened before. What if there's some incursion no one knows about?"

"They had their chance and they blew it at the wedding. There shouldn't be enough demons on earth serving Mundus to do anything big without a big portal, and there haven't been any big portals."

"Tony, we're talking demons here. They're smarter than us, you know that. What if they tricked him through a portal, what if he needs help?" She was pacing now, the long cord anchoring her to the desk.

"…I'll check."

If he'd gone through a portal… she could go after him.

No. she couldn't. If he was already… it would be certain death. She couldn't abandon the babies. Who would look after them if something happened to her.

"Thank you." She hung up and called Matier.

No, nothing, Vie du Marii had enough defenders few blasphemers tried anything… what!

At least Matier was taking this seriously.

"Yes, I know he's gone to hell before, and I know time sometimes runs differently there…"

"But even so." She heard a worried sigh. "We will ask our gods. Even the one he defeated sees him as a worthy foe."

The boys should be up from their nap by now.

She should go to them.

He was fine, he would be back, it was just one of those things that happened to everyone, even living legends. Whatever it was, even Mundus (who was still sealed) he had faced it before, he would be fine.

She kept telling herself that, but she couldn't make herself listen.

She wanted to… look. But earth was vast, and he could be anywhere. Where would she start? And the Underworld was even larger, and if she went there she'd be something's dinner as soon as her stamina gave out, or even sooner if she wound up somewhere loyal to Mundus (and that would be where to look first) and they recognized her.

She opened the door to the playroom and both of them were staring at her, not blinking.

They knew something was wrong. They could see her fear, probably. She could almost feel it herself now, coming off her in waves.

Why was she so panicked? Why was she so certain something was wrong, that it was already too late?

She didn't let it show on her face. "Vergil, Dante, come on." She took Vergil's hand and he took Dante's and they went through the halls just like always. "Do you want to see The Hobbit again?"

They looked at each other. "Where's Daddy?"

"I still don't know, Dante. I'm sorry. I'm sure…" The words caught in her throat. She just couldn't make herself tell him she thought Sparda would be home soon. "I'm sure he's doing his best."

She wanted to run out of here to go find him, but where? Where?

On the other side of the seal, that was where his sword would be. Through the portal from Temen ni Gru. The other side of _two_ seals.

She would never make it.

They knew it was bad. She'd never been good at lying when it mattered. "Mommy, Daddy is cwming home, wight?" Vergil tugged on her trenchcoat.

"He… would if he could, babies." She knelt and hugged them. "I could be wrong, but… this has never happened before. He's always been here with us…"

They looked at her, eyes full of fear (she'd never wanted to see them know fear) and questions she couldn't answer.

"He'll be back someday, I promise." She squeezed them. "Even if I don't know when." She could never do it. No one would ever be willing to break the seal on Temen ni Gru and then Sparda's seal to get back a devil.

Oh god, she missed him already, it already hurt so much… "Maybe he'll be back soon. You go watch that movie, I'll get it set up for you, and then Mommy will wait for him."

"Yesh, Mommy," Dante nuzzled her sadly.

It was raining outside.

This was foolish. He could teleport, he would come home and find the children and be wondering where she was. Out in the cold, wet, rain.

Out here she could pretend it was only rain streaming down her face. She would never let her children see her cry.

Even if it ached.

She'd always gone with her instincts and now they were saying he was gone.

Gone.

It ached.

It got infinitesimally darker even through the thick black clouds and she knew it was getting late.

It was when it brightened that she went inside.

The children had wrecked the kitchen trying to find something to eat. She had to take better care of them than that. For his sake, and theirs.


	21. Codicil A: Long Day

Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry. If I did, I would have a lot more money.

The core of Rapture is the Sparda/Eva relationship, so from when they meet to his death, but I've decided to toss the stuff before her death in here too. I'm not going to do a fic about her death until the DMC novella translation is released by Tokyopop so I can avoid contradicting it. That's going to be in… I think June.

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Damn it, she wanted leashes! Damn kids! Well, boys would be boys. It was only natural they would keep testing her authority. Luckily, age and guile beat youth and brains hands down, so she could usually keep them in line.

Unfortunately, she wasn't strong enough to carry battleship chains (and it would look damn weird, kids held by them), and they were too old for kiddy leashes anyway.

It was natural for little children to get lost in crowds. This was a perfectly normal piece of maternal hell.

They'd probably wandered off after something shiny. Or that made loud noises. Or that otherwise appealed to their millisecond-long attention spans.

There was a lot that would do that here today.

Loud clanging and tonal music filled the air as the procession went down the street. Chinese New Year in Chinatown, San Francisco. She'd had to visit here on bank business (she couldn't let all the people who had put their trust in a devil go broke if the bank collapsed, after all), and she'd been invited to see the sights with her children.

She hadn't been able to stop the others from going to search too. She prayed she found them first. Dante had a tendency to bite people who tried to order him around, besides her.

It was a good thing he was only mildly poisonous. That woman who had pinched his cheeks had been fine after a few days tied to her bed so she wouldn't try to fly out the window.

LSD in the drinks was always a good way to explain people seeing huge spiders, real or hallucinogenic.

She wondered how she was going to handle them when they started dating. They might be poisonous enough by then to kill their girlfriends by nibbling on their necks. Sparda had been able to shapeshift to get rid of the poison, but she had no idea how to teach them to do that.

Girls were _already_ flocking around them. Cute little things in pastel dresses. Little hoydens! After the money. She wasn't going to let some tramp break her boys' hearts!

Although she had many available means for disposing of the bodies.

"Die!" A childish but fierce voice rang out through the crowd, followed by a loud thwacking sound. And another. And a gunshot.

Dante _always_ managed to find the one person in a crowd with a gun and pick their holster. Fortunately the New York mob boss had thought it was cute.

The Queen of England's bodyguards had been less enthused about it. Arthur Hellsing had laughed like crazy. A man after her own heart. Now if only he would stop mentally undressing her. Apparently he'd been one hell of a womanizer, back in the day.

"Excuse, me, coming through…" She _hated_ crowds. The current, no matter what, always went in the direction _opposite_ to the one she was going in. Well, sane people ran away from danger.

She was crazy, of course.

And her boys had better be in mortal danger (another hunter trying to kill them before they could grow strong enough to be a threat?) or _they_ would be running. From her.

Spare the shotgun, spoil the child.

The fuss seemed to be taking place around the front of the dragon thing.

That was right, the procession of men in a huge long costume of a dragon had passed by her just a few seconds before she had noticed the boys had disappeared (not literally, Vergil hadn't _quite_ mastered teleportation yet).

Oh, hell.

She had thought this had been cleared up after the fiasco when she tried to take them to Disneyland!

Sure enough, the boys were attacking the head of the 'dragon.' Eva's eyes noticed a collapsed booth, one of its supporting poles the wooden staff now in Vergil's hands.

"Vergil! Dante!"

"Mom! We found a demon! Help us kill it!" Dante was pouting, having run out of ammo. He was shaking the gun, hoping that would make it get more somehow.

"Vergil, stop bashing those poor peoples' costume!"

Vergil froze. "…costume?"

"But it's too big to be a costume!"

"Sometimes, there are many people in a costume instead of just one," Eva explained, holding on to her temper with her teeth. "Remember what I told you at Disneyland after you attacked the poor people in Sleeping Beauty goblin costumes?"

They mumbled something, looking at each other with oh shit expressions.

Eva put her hands on her hips. "I can't hear you."

"Make sure it's not human first," they chorused, abashed.

"But I shot it and I didn't draw any blood!" Dante objected.

Phew. "Because there's a lot of empty space in this costume and luckily, you didn't hit any people." Eva walked forward, lifting the dragon's head and pointing to the cowering man inside it. "See!"

Vergil tried to hide the pole behind his back. Dante had already tossed the gun somewhere.

"Vergil Martin von Schwärzung, Dante Luther von Schwärzung, apologize to the poor man right now!" She helped him up. "I'm so, so sorry about this."

"Sorry Mom!"

"Sorry!" Vergil and Dante bowed. _Now_ they remembered what she had taught them.

The man clung to her arm and spoke in Chinese. Not a dialect she was fluent in. She only knew enough Chinese to be able to read ancient inscriptions in case they were How to Defeat the Local Demon God in Three Easy Steps, and ask basic questions like, which way did the thing that bit your arm off go? "I'm very sorry sir, and I'll pay for the damages. Or rather," she glared at the boys, "you two will. I'm docking your allowance."

"But mom! We were trying to save all these people from a demon! We're supposed to do that!"

"How many times do I have to tell you, not until you're older? Kids," she said exasperatedly, turning to the man again. "What can you do?"

He said something. Was that the… Chinese for demon. Damn.

She had _thought_ she had seen a blur of blue up above the heads of the crowd while she was heading over. She turned back to the boys and glared. _"Boys!_ What did I tell you about showing off!"

There was an old man heading over with incense and some amulets. Shit. She recognized one of the ones that _worked_. Some civilians had talismans that hunters had made centuries or decades ago passed down through their families. If that was one of those…

He threw it at Dante. And that was an activating word.

"Ow!" Dante's shoulder, where it had hit, was hissing red steam. "Mom! That man hurt me!" He pointed.

Vergil was gripping the pole with a determined look in his eyes. No one beat up his little brother but him!

People were either starting to try to get away or push forward to watch. Not good. Very not good.

She couldn't take them _anywhere!_

"Lady von Schwärzung, are you all right?" The old banker was panting. He looked at the scene and hollered, "Police!" He turned to her, "I'm terribly sorry, your ladyship, normally the Chinese are quite good people, hard workers, except for the young men when they've had, well, too much to drink. What got into an old man like that, to throw acid on your son? I can't believe it!"

The incense made Vergil sneeze and start forward. "Vergil! _Stay!_"

"But Mom, he hurt…"

"I said _stay!_"

The crowd was gawking at Dante and at the old man, who was staring, horrified. He clearly hadn't actually expected it to work! He flinched when Dante growled. Eva couldn't see if his eyes flashed red or not. They probably had. Dante wasn't very good with control. "Dante! Quiet!"

"But Mom…!"

"Don't but Mom me! You two are in so, so much trouble when we get back to the hotel!" She would have to buy rock salt for the shotgun. Just spanking them didn't work anymore. Damn pain tolerances. Damn kids!

She was going to find Sparda, bring him back to life, have mad passionate sex, and then kill him for sticking her with these two!

Making her do _woman's work! _She was a goddamn _housewife_ because she couldn't leave these two alone for a second!

The man threw another talisman at Vergil. She started forward a fraction of a second too late. She almost panicked, what if it was something stronger!

But it was a dud. It bounced off Vergil's head and hit someone in the crowd. "Ow! Mom, he's throwing things at me!"

"It's your fault for attacking the poor man in the costume!" She swatted him on the head. "How many times do I have to tell you to _come get me_?"

Vergil looked sideways. "It was Dante's idea!" Vergil was a _terrible_ liar. Which was a good thing. She could always get the truth out of him. Maybe it had to do with demons being more honest than humans.

"Liar! Mom, Vergil told me to!"

"Vergil, don't lie! And don't incite your little brother! I'm ashamed of you! You're the eldest, take some responsibility!" She shook her fist at him.

The old man was staring at them, back and forth following whoever was shouting. He worked himself up to throw something at her. He stammered out… that was what they called sorcerers, people who called up demons, right?

Demon-controller. Yeah, right. She barely controlled these two. She caught it and let it fall to the ground. Dante and Vergil trained twin glares on the old man. Vergil moved to whack him with the pole. Eva caught the pole. "Vergil!"

"But Mom! He tried to hurt you!" Dante growled at the old man again. She whapped him on the head as hard as she could, then tried to hide that her hand was stinging.

The poor old man was cowering, but standing his ground.

"I say!" The old banker (what was his name? The stuffed shirts tended to blur together after a while) moved to interpose himself between them and the old man. "Leave these people alone! Police!" he called out.

"Dante! Vergil! Leave the poor nutcase alone and _apologize_ to this poor man!" She pointed at the man who had been the head of the dragon, who didn't seem to speak English. He backed away from the finger.

"But we did apologize!" Vergil objected.

"You apologized to _me!_ You have to treat people with respect. Now be polite!" She whacked Vergil on the head. "Say I'm sorry in Chinese!"

They bowed and did so. The man said something quickly and started to scoot away. She decided to take that as apology accepted.

"Your boys speak Chinese, Lady Eva?" The banker blinked.

"They're prodigies. They take after their father. Except that he had _manners_ and _self-control!" _She returned to glaring at them. They tried to avoid her gaze.

This was not good. There were hunters in San Francisco, of course, and the old man was probably one of their contacts. She didn't want ninjas storming the hotel. No, wait, ninjas were Japanese, weren't they? She needed to read up on Asia. In her non-existent spare time.

"Oh, they seem like good children, your ladyship. Such brave little knights, trying to defend us from a monster!" The banker chuckled.

"They're little angels. When they're asleep." Fallen angels the rest of the time. "Vergil, Dante, we're going!"

"Oh, but they'll miss the rest of the parade! I'm sure this will be cleaned up quickly."

Oh, right. She was actually paying for property damages now. Part of being a respectable citizen. She fumbled in her purse and pulled out her wallet. A little over two thousand. She grabbed the dragon-man, who froze, and handed him the money. "For the dragon. Um… long!" She pointed at the costume. "…Yen!" She knew Chinese for money!

The man's eyes widened at the amount.

"Your ladyship, that's much too much!" The banker protested.

"I'm not paying it, Vergil and Dante are." She grabbed them both by the ears. Good thing they were cowed enough not to try to pull away, they could wrench her arms off. "We're going back to the hotel! And you two are so, so grounded!"

She marched off, half-dragging them. "And that means no weapons practice!"

"But Mom," they wailed.

"Can it!"


	22. Codicil B: Deadlier

Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry. Nor do I own the poem this is a selection from:

But the Woman that God gave him, every fibre of her frame  
Proves her launched for one sole issue, armed and engined for the same;  
And to serve that single issue, lest the generations fail,  
The female of the species must be deadlier than the male.

She who faces Death by torture for each life beneath her breast  
May not deal in doubt or pity—must not swerve for fact or jest.

- The Female of the Species (a selection), Rudyard Kipling

* * *

"Boys?" Eva called, knocking on the door to their room in the hotel suite. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah mom," Dante yelled back.

"Good." They might actually be early for once. Eva opened the door. And sighed. "Vergil, Dante, what did I tell you two about jumping on beds?" There were handprints on the ceiling over the twin beds. Clumsily disguised handprints. "Did you fill those in with toothpaste? I'm leaving twenty here for the poor maid, and a hundred for the repairs. There's a perfectly good trampoline at home." She walked over to one of the beds and pushed experimentally on the mattress in several places. "You broke a lot of springs too. Make that three hundred."

They looked sheepish and didn't try to protest. There was a reason for the good behavior. "Yes, you still get to go to Disneyworld with us." They perked up. "Now come over here." She beckoned them over.

Vergil knew the routine, he stood with his arms spread while she patted him down. No weapons, good.

Dante was standing a little awkwardly while he waited. She knew the signs by now. "Hand it over, Dante." She held out her hand.

"Hand what over, mom?"

"The knife that's up your sleeve that you were planning to brush-pass to Vergil once I cleared him. Come on." She snapped her fingers.

He sighed and handed it over. Silverware from the night before. "Real silver. Good choice." She poked the mattress with it. Pushed right in. "You know, I'm glad you were paying attention when I was giving you the impromptu-weapons lessons, but I really wish you would practice a little _less_ often.

"Mom," Vergil protested.

"I know, I know, not having a weapon makes you nervous. I feel the same way, Vergil. But there are things called metal detectors. And if you have a weapon, you always end up using it." She sighed and ruffled his hair. "You two have your father's instincts. He always protected the weak. But you're just kids, Vergil, Dante. You need to have some fun," before Sparda's enemies struck for real. Every day was a blessing: more time for them to get stronger. The more training, the more likely to survive, "before you get old and… even more white." She smiled at them. "Now. Give me your words of honor you won't cause any trouble today."

"I swear." Vergil crossed his heart.

"I do too." Dante did the same.

"Good." She clasped her hands. "Was there enough breakfast?"

They all looked at the pile of plates room service had brought. Each of them ate enough for three growing boys.

She would have to make sure they drank plenty of soda so they didn't get hungry and tired. Cranky. The people they were going with would be with them all day. They probably wouldn't think anything of the huge meals, but Eva was paranoid. She had to be.

"Yes mom." Dante nodded. Vergil nodded as well.

"You remembered to drink water and go to the bathroom, right?" Damages, check. Clothing on, check. Weapons, check. Fed, check.

"Yes mom." Vergil nodded this time, looking proud. He must have been the one to remember.

"Okay." She cracked her knuckles. "Let's get this show on the road." Just then, the phone rang in her suite. She dashed over and tossed it up. "Eva Williams-von Schwärzung."

"Your car is ready ma'am."

"Good, we'll be right down." Perfect timing.

It was Vergil's turn for the front seat. Her mother senses alerted her to the fact he was sticking his tongue out at Dante behind her back, but she decided not to bring it up unless it escalated.

Dante sat behind her and was looking through the gap between her seat and Vergil's hoping to spy the park. "Are we there yet?"

"Five more minutes, Dante." They'd got a close hotel. Long drives with these two made her tear her hair out. She had to stop every hour or so so that they could get out and run around. Too much energy. And they never could nap, hair-trigger senses alerted by every loud noise or change in the road surface.

"Be quiet Dante, mom's trying to drive," Vergil groused.

"Vergil, it was a reasonable question." Not like the time they'd decided to drive her nuts by saying it over and over. There they were.

She drove up next to the group of successful businessmen and their families. A driver took her car. "Vergil, Dante, stay with me." She took them by the shoulders.

They nodded.

"Hello, Dame Eva." Toby Morgan bowed.

She nodded. "Mr. Morgan. And… Sally, isn't it?" She knew the name.

"Yes, I'm Sally." Thin. Blonde. Harried. "This is our son, Abel."

"Vergil, Dante, say hi to Abel." Nice to meet you." She smiled down at the boy.

"Hello."

"Hello." Vergil and Dante didn't seem very impressed.

This was their first time meeting family. She'd wondered if they would smell something, but not yet apparently. She didn't know if she wanted them to know or not.

The in-laws of Sparda would be targets, and if her sons knew others might find out.

"We're waiting for my father, George Morgan, he retired down here," Toby looked up, shading his eyes. "I think that's his car." Sure enough, it was.

Eva said hellos to other colleagues-strange that these suits were colleagues-until the guide, a perky young man, announced, "All right! Everyone's here. Welcome to Disneyworld, the happiest place on earth!" They all got in the tram and it started off.

Vergil had been a little rude to a girl who tried to talk to him, but just ignoring her wasn't a crime. She did wish they would make friends, but then… children played rough games, especially hers. She didn't want anyone to break anything if it wouldn't grow back.

Dante loved the teacup ride and Toontown. They agreed Dumbo was too slow. Space Mountain garnered oohs and aahs. The other children traveled in a pack but hers stayed close to her, although Dante had to be tugged back from following a parade by Vergil.

"But Mom, they got soda!" Abel was tugging at Sally's sleeve and pointing to Vergil and Dante, who were on their third Sprites. No caffeine for them.

"No." Sally gave her a faintly disapproving look. Bad for their teeth? They'd chewed on diamonds once in the sticking-things-in-mouth stage and their teeth hadn't even been scratched. She didn't dare take them to a dentist.

And here they were at the next ride. Oh no. She wasn't crazy enough to try Pirates of the Caribbean with these two. Even if they didn't climb out of the car and start tearing things apart to save people, it would give them ideas, count on it. Like the time they'd played Robin Hood. Or the table she'd had to replace because they hacked at it to make it round, or the sword they'd stuck in one of the hunters' gravestones back at the castle.

"I think we'll sit this one out," she told the guide.

"Worried about nightmares?" The guide whispered back. "Let me take you around here, there's a quiet place to sit."

"Sounds great, thanks." The guide gave the ride attendants the pass that said they could skip the lines (Vergil. And Dante. Waiting in a line. The mind boggled.) and led them through a door to a waiting room. "I'll come for you as soon as they're done."

"Thank you."

When the guide was out of the room she got down on one knee and hugged her boys. "I'm so proud of you two! You've been good all day."

"The other kids were acting up," Dante said proudly.

"Yes, you were little angels." Another squeeze.

The door opened behind her. "Yeah. Right." A click. She knew that sound.

She pulled Vergil and Dante close and tugged them down, covering them as the bullets whizzed by. Two of them, aimed for their heads.

Like they'd practiced before, she tugged her shawl off her shoulders and unfolded it, spreading it over them. Enchanted to be spell proof, and mostly bulletproof.

Her own guns came out of the pockets on this dress. A hunter. She'd recognize one anywhere. It was almost like she'd seen this one before.

Unmistakable. Not a common assassin or kidnapper. "So you're the devil's whore."

Her eyes narrowed. "Excuse me? Don't use language like that in front of _my children_."

"Like it'll matter." He fired. A silver thread swept it out of the air a foot from her nose.

"You think I'm unprotected?" She held out her arm. "Silver Web Arachne."

"A devil arm. Figures." The black-haired, vaguely Mexican man fired two more shots.

She didn't even bother to dodge. Instead, she took out her own guns. "Luce and Ombra. They _never_ miss. Now. I suggest you leave. I don't want to kill a fellow hunter."

Shock. "Hunter? You're kidding. No hunter would let a devil fuck them. No real hunter, you goddamn traitor!"

She shot the edge of his cloak. "Language. And don't talk that way about a hero without whom you would be in a slave camp waiting to be sacrificed. My, you're well prepared…" The door opened again.

The guide was standing there with.. Father!

One of the hunters hands turned to cover the door with one gun, the other still pointed at her. "Back away. I don't kill innocents."

The guide slowly complied.

"What are you doing?" He looked so old, so frail.

"Keep quiet!"

"As though your shooting wouldn't attract security anyway. Mr. Morgan, please. You know I can handle myself."

His eyes darted to the children under the seemingly flimsy covering. "Security!"

"Shut up!" His eyes were desperate, Eva noted. What, had he thought she would be helpless? He jabbed with the gun in George's direction. "Shut up!" He quickly released his gun and pulled out a holy water, tossing it to her side. It wasn't targeted at her, so Arachne didn't react.

The acid sizzled on the shawl, but didn't penetrate.

"Mom," Dante was thrashing under the shawl behind her.

"Stay. Put. Or goodness help me I will shoot you myself when this idiot leaves." He voice was cold. "Security will be here soon. Hunter's immunity won't work with people who don't know. You'll have to fight your way out of here."

"I came here to kill you and those demons, and I'm going to do it." A fanatic. Not that that was unusual in hunters.

"I will kill you." Her guns were held level.

"Security!" George started forward, trying to get between her and the Hunter.

"Shut up!" Bang.

Maybe he was too focused on her. Maybe that was why his aim was off. Or maybe he was desperate enough he had taken out the obstacle in the most expedient way.

The body fell back against her, knocking her guns out of the way as she smelled the guide losing control of his bladder and heard his high-pitched scream.

A rain of bullets. "Die, witch!"

She didn't want to kill a hunter. She had never killed an innocent human in her life. He wasn't a sorcerer.

But he wasn't innocent.

"No one." She carefully pushed the body off her as Vergil and Dante threw themselves out from under the shawl, trying to rush him.

"No one fucks with my family." Dante and Vergil tore the guns out of his hands, blood covering them and blood spurting from the Hunter's broken wrists as Eva precisely targeted Luce and Ombra.

He had four full blue orbs. She kept track of how many bullets hit him before the wounds stopped healing. A little thing like that didn't stop her firing. As he fell back, she stamped her foot on his chest. "Die."

Her eyes were cold, Dante and Vergil were snarling. "Boys." She shot each of them in the forehead. "What did I tell you about if something like this happened."

Red-tinged eyes glared back at her. Another shot. "Answer me!"

"He attacked you! He killed somebody!" The death must have made their devil halves more aware. Fingers were curling, itching to turn into claws, and denied the death of the Hunter they were full of wrath.

She shot them again. "What did I tell you!"

"We couldn't just hide! We couldn't just stand back and let that, that scum hurt you!" Vergil screamed, starting forward. Dante was kicking the body, eyes mesmerized by the oozing and the twitching.

Twin bangs. "I was in no danger! And even if I had been, you. Do. What. I. Tell. You. To!" Two more shots. "If I tell you to hide like cowards, like _children_, you do it! If I tell you to run and leave me, you do it!" Two more shots. "What were you supposed to do!"

"Stay under the shawl." Dante's lip curled.

They'd just helped kill their first human. This was dangerous, she could tell. Dante looked fascinated, Vergil like he wanted to tear _her_ apart for saying he was wrong to fight.

She lunged, grabbing them and holding them up against the wall. "I am your mother! You do what I tell you to, because god help me if you disobey again I will kill you myself! You see that man there, you see him! He wanted to protect humanity. He's dead now, dead! I had to kill him. I had to! Why? Because you left cover! Because if he had enough holy waters on him you would be _dead _now. Somebody is _dead_ because you two brats were too full of yourselves to let me handle it!" She slammed them against the wall again. Adrenaline. She didn't know how long it would last, but she needed it to.

She had to establish herself as the head of the pack again. She had to hold on to her authority. Because her babies had almost died. The next time they disobeyed… there wouldn't be a next time.

Vergil looked shocked, hurt now, the red fading. Dante looked faintly sick. "Do you understand!" She shook them.

"Yes!" Vergil flinched.

Dante just nodded, shame entering his eyes. The room smelled of blood and death. Splatters everywhere.

"Good." She let go of their necks and stepped back. Should she rub their noses in it literally? That was dogs. These were her children. They weren't animals.

Even if they had the potential to be perfect killers.

Her father was dead.

The guide was passed out. Hopefully he would pass off any of her shooting her children he had been conscious for as a bad dream.

There was someone else at the door. Her eyes widened. "Thomas?"

He was going for his gun. She shot that hand and then she fired until he was dead as well.

"Boys, get under the shawl!"

They got. She poked her head out the door. There didn't seem to be any more, if the first one had failed, all the backup would have come in at once.

It was over.

Her children were safe. That was what mattered. It didn't matter that two people who had only wanted to protect humanity were dead. It didn't matter that her father was dead. Her children were safe.

They were worth it! They were!

Her children had seen this. And she'd… done that instead of comforting them.

Way to go, Eva.

Mother's instincts, hell.

A scream, Sally, in the alley.

Time to spin a web of lies and say that heroes were villains.

* * *

Please review. 


	23. Codicil C: Despair

_Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry. _

_This is the fic that never ends… at least not until the novel comes out and I can finally write Eva's death. June! Thank Tokyopop! I just hope nothing important gets distorted. The manga was hella distorted. Still, buy it! This references a scene in the comic, although the comic is AU of the games and therefore of this. Not that _all_ fanfic isn't AU._

_Please, please, please review. I got no reviews on part XIIb and that makes me all paranoid that I wrote something that sucks. It's very depressing. If you could maybe go back and review that too I would be very grateful. _

-

Sometimes it was just too much.

The day had started normally enough. Breakfast, the huge amount of food it took to fill them up. She'd had her usual eggs and bacon, she'd had a good appetite then. Looking forward to the party later. She'd been happy they'd survived another year.

It hadn't hit until later.

They were staying at a summer cottage in Ireland. There were old stone walls throughout the grounds and it was surrounded by rolling green hills. It was hopefully private enough no one would see two children, tall for their ages, playing with swords. So she'd given them Yamato and Rebellion and shooed them outdoors to tire themselves out and occasionally looked out at them through the window as she did the paperwork and wrote letters.

She knew to leave it to the experts but still there was so much she needed to do for the bank, and she didn't want to sign anything she didn't understand. She wanted them to have their full inheritance.

Everything had been normal until she'd glanced out the window to see Dante's attack slide off of Yamato. That was normal enough. Vergil was the better of the two at swordfighting, as Dante was far better at guns.

She'd hired a few experts to give them pointers since she didn't have the first clue about swords, not having the upper body strength to use them effectively against demons (few humans did), but they were mostly self-taught. They had to be, Sparda wasn't here and human techniques were for people with human strength.

What wasn't normal was that Vergil hit Dante while he was down. "What's going on out here?" she yelled and started running. "What have you done!"

When she'd gotten there Dante had already gotten to his feet. She felt relieved. Yamato was a dangerous sword. They were both carrying tons of orbs of all sorts, but… "Vergil!" She put her hands on her hips. "What the hell did you just do?"

"Yeah!" Dante was mimicking her pose, looking deeply offended. "Just because I said I wasn't going to take second place to you you stab me in the back?"

Vergil looked down at his shoes, not saying anything.

"Vergil Martin von Schwärzung! Explain and apologize to your brother right this instant!"

"It didn't hurt him. And I thought you wanted us to practice for a real fight. In a real fight it would have been stupid to not take advantage of an opening like that," Vergil explained rebelliously.

"Yeah, we fight like that sometimes, but this wasn't that kind of fight! We were supposed to just be having fun and then you pull a move like that?" Dante looked hurt and angry.

"It was instinct."

"That's not good enough an excuse, Vergil. You're more than your instincts. _Control, _Vergil, _control. _Now apologize to your brother."

"But you were suddenly all serious, Dante! I thought you wanted a serious fight!"

"If I'd wanted a serious fight I would have told you, stupidhead! That's fair!"

"Vergil. Apologize or I will confine you to your room the rest of today."

"It was just an accident! I didn't hurt him!"

"But if you'd been sparring with a normal person and you'd suddenly pulled a move like that, you would have killed them, Vergil. I am very, very surprised with you. You should know better than to make excuses and try to weasel out of things when you _know_ you did something wrong. You have until the count of five to apologize. One, two-"

"I'm sorry," he muttered, clearly not meaning it. "You always take Dante's side! If he'd done that to me…"

"If he'd done that to you I would have known it was an accident, just when you had that ricochet and shot him last year. He's not as good at sword fighting, Vergil. When he messes up he still needs to improve but that's the stage he's in. When you mess up it's a problem, Vergil. You should know better than that."

"Yes, Mother." He bowed his head, retreating into that stiff formality he showed sometimes. Cold, withdrawn. Like Sparda but… not.

"Now apologize again, and you'd better mean it this time."

"I'm sorry, Dante." No hint in his voice of whether he meant it or not. Which probably meant a lot of resentment. She searched his eyes and there was just a hint of a glare at her.

"That's better." She didn't want to push him farther and get him angrier. "Now. What's your plan for preventing this in future?"

"If I'm sparring I will pay better attention to my attacks instead of acting on instinct."

She nodded. "That's good, Vergil. Now how about you two get back to sparring so you can get started on learning to control yourself better."

"I don't want to spar anymore. I'll go exploring. Vergil can practice on his own." Great. Now Vergil was angry at her and Dante was sulking.

"Dante. You need to help your brother practice his swordsmanship. He helps you with yours every day, you should be grateful for the chance to return the favor."

"He hit me in the back when I was down, Mother!" Dante glared at both of them.

"It was a momentary lapse of control, Dante. Don't tell me you don't have those. You bit through your fork just last week. He's apologized. What more do you want?"

"He didn't mean it!" Dante looked entreatingly at Vergil. "You hurt me and you're not sorry!"

This… wasn't a small incident, was it. Dante felt really betrayed. And now Vergil would…

"You never apologize when you hit me, Dante! You celebrate! Just because Mother's taking your side-"

"She's not taking my side! I'm ri-"

"Both of you _shut up_!" Eva grabbed them both by the ears. Dante stilled, obedient, but Vergil wrenched himself free and turned away. So much stronger than her.

Man, barely seven and they were acting like adolescents. She didn't even know how to handle human kids! Sparda had written stuff for her about demon nestlings, but he was a bachelor! They'd fought before, but not like this!

She let Dante go so it would look like it was her own idea he'd escaped. Couldn't look weak. "Boys! You're acting like two-year-olds!" More like thirteen-year-olds. "Both of you go to your rooms until you're ready to apologize to each other!" She folded her arms and gave them both her best Mom Glare.

"I already apologized!" Vergil exclaimed, frustrated.

"No you didn't!"

She shot both of them with Luce. "I said shut up! Now apologize to _me!" _

"Sorry Mother," they said in unison, glaring at each other.

"Now go to your rooms!" She followed them into the house and closed each of them in their rooms.

She went back to the kitchen table where her things were spread out but she didn't have the heart to read anymore documents. Sparda had done that.

She hated it when they fought. It was just getting worse. Sure, they'd make up soon enough but they never really _forgot_ anything. Forgive, yes, eventually but they had been inseparable. VergilandDante. Dante wanting to head off to explore on his own… it had only been last year they'd moved out of the nursery into their own bedrooms. Right next to each other, and Vergil had told her they used Morse Code to tap out messages through the wall.

She went back to her room and flung herself down on the bed. The cold, hard bed. She hadn't made it in the morning. She never really made beds anymore, it was hard enough to get herself out of them in the morning.

These past few months she'd just felt so tired. Once she got out of bed she was fine, but it was getting harder and harder to get out. Sometimes even surrounded by her playing, laughing children all she could do was paste a smile on her face and pretend to be interested in them. Sometimes all she wanted to do, the only thing she could bring herself to care about was to lie in bed and pretend Sparda was there. Remember how he'd held her, touched her, remember the things he'd said and she'd smile, eyes closed or open and unseeing, and feel a sort of bitter happiness that tore at her like razors.

But she had to get out of bed, she had to be there for his children. Even if she really had no idea what she was doing and every time she messed up she longed for him even more. He would have known what to do.

He would have their respect naturally while she had to work harder and harder to keep it, weak human that she was. Dante was more obedient but they had to realize soon, if they hadn't already, that if they worked together they could overpower her. She hoped they loved her enough to put up with her controlling them: it was for their own good.

But what person wanted power over them? Little boy or devil, it didn't matter. She'd resented the hell our of her parents.

She'd tried to be a good mother. She thought she'd done a pretty good job. After all, they were all still alive, right? Although there had been some close calls…

Maybe them overpowering her would be a good sign. If they could beat her, who had taught them and knew every single weakness they had and how to exploit it mercilessly, then maybe they could hold their own against the assassins?

It was getting harder and harder to get them to keep back. She'd had to use a grenade on Vergil to take him out of the fight last time, throwing the shawl shield over him. They wanted to protect themselves and her, they wanted to _fight_. Maybe she should let them. Keep an eye on them, back them up. They would need to fight soon enough.

Devils matured slower than humans. They were growing at the normal rate for humans, but how long until they developed real powers?

Sparda would have been able to look at them and gauge how strong they were. Sparda would have been able to train them to fight as devils instead of them (mostly Vergil) having to figure it out on their own.

What would happen when she died?

She should have listened to Sparda. He'd wanted to make her a devil, promised she would stay herself. She should have trusted him.

If he'd made her a devil she would be stronger. Better able to protect them. Would live longer.

But when he'd been alive there hadn't been the need and now he was dead she didn't dare risk it. Becoming devils drove most people insane. Her children needed her level headed.

She wasn't level headed. She buried her face in the pillows. "Sparda…" she wanted to cry to him for help, she wanted to turn around and have him be there, putting his arm around her shoulder and pulling her close. Being there for her, he said he would always be there.

But he'd gone away and left her alone. She didn't even have a body or devil arm. There would be a chance of reviving him again. Blackest sorcery but for him she wouldn't care.

"Damn you, Sparda!" Her hands pummeled the pillows. One of her first lessons. Turn grief and sadness to anger. Turn weakness to strength. "You should have stayed with me! You should have come back! But you went away and left me alone! I can't do this! I can't!" Her anger turned in on herself. She shouldn't blame him, she should blame whoever made him not come back. Probably one of Mundus' servants. "I'm sorry," she said through the tears, broken sobs starting to come from her throat.

The door swung gently open. One of the boys. She didn't want them to see her like this. She had to be strong, strong for them. But she just couldn't move right now.

The door closed.


	24. Codicil D: Future

_Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry. _

_The flashback scene was originally covered by a drabble in the collection _0 – Hallowed Refrain,_ but I cut it and another drabble from it when I decided to write this. I replaced the cut drabbles, so if you want to go look at that chapter there are two new ones. _

_Note: it's generally accepted that Dante's flashback in DMC1, which this is my version of, occurred on the Twins' fifth birthday. I have no idea if this is based on something Capcom said or not, but because I've seen it so many places I'm using it. This means this occurs prior to _Codicil C – Despair, _which I have be on the seventh birthday. Unlike the main _Rapture_ stories, I'm not going to bother about keeping the codicils in chronological order. It would just be another headache. _

-

This wasn't anything like her own birthday parties. None of them so far had been. On their first birthday there had been little bits of brownie Sparda had made, as well as cut-up cherries and strawberries and Sparda had let them each have a bottle of his blood. The children had obviously preferred it to the blood they usually had, cow's blood mixed with a little of hers. They had sung songs to the children and let them play around outside.

The second birthday they had each had little cupcakes and forks, which they had speared each other with, and had understood that this was the day they were born instead of a special day. They'd asked about being born and Eva had explained they came out of her body. Vergil had looked confused and Dante had poked her and said she wasn't hollow so how could they fit, even though they had been smaller.

Such bright children.

By the third birthday Sparda had been gone for a while. They'd missed their father on their birthday. She'd remembered their birth and missed him. He'd held her hand all through it, used magic to take away the pain… no, don't think about it. Thinking about him makes you long for him. Today is for the children. Every day is for the children now.

She'd learned to bake a little (she'd lived on her own so of course she knew the basics, and cooking had been one more thing to do with him, and then later a way to feel close to him), so she'd made two cakes, one for each of them, one chocolate with marshmallow frosting and the other vanilla with chocolate frosting. She felt moderately proud of herself: they were moist and they should taste excellent.

She lit the candles, five candles for each of them and took the cakes into the dining room where they were waiting eagerly. "Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Vergil and Dante, happy birthday to you," she sang as she carried them into the darkened room. "Vergil, Dante, happy birthday," she smiled, sounding softer than she usually did, feeling soft looking at their eager expressions. Her babies, five years old. They'd all survived this long. Two and a half years.

Maybe, just maybe, she'd be able to protect them until they were adults. Maybe she'd succeed and their children would live.

"Wow!"

"Cool!" They said when they saw the huge cakes.

"I want chocolate!" Dante cried eagerly.

"No, I want chocolate!" Vergil was just as eager, and a little annoyed Dante had called first dibs.

And there went the moment. "Boys…" she chided them, gently but with a hint of steel.

They snapped to attention. "Sorry, mom." Dante looked down at the ground.

"They're both chocolate." Of course she would make their favorites. She put the chocolate one in front of Vergil and the chocolate frosted one in front of Dante.

"Now close your eyes and make a wish. I'll count to three then you try to blow out all your candles with one breath. Then maybe the wish will come true."

Vergil looked down at his cake and up at her. "That's really easy. You get a wish for just that?"

She shrugged. "It's an urban legend. It's probably not true, but there's always hope. Come on, if it's real do you want to miss this chance?"

"Did your wishes ever come true, Mother?" Dante asked, curious.

"Some of them. Now get ready. One, two, three!"

Dante knocked over his candles, Vergil only tipped the first one, on the right. "Very good! Now don't tell me what you wished for. Some of the traditions say that will make it not come true." She knew what she would have wished for, and found herself hoping that at least one of them had wished for Sparda to come back.

Futile hope? Perhaps, but… there was always that 'but.'

Now then. "Boys, look at what I just gave you." She'd placed something in front of them while their eyes were closed.

They looked down, then back up at her. So?

Freaking huge gemstones, one in a silver setting one in gold. Anyone else would be having dollar signs go off in their heads. "This was a gift from your father. I think it's time for you to have it."

"What is it, mother?" Vergil asked, looking at it, interested now he knew it was from his father, the man he barely remembered but she'd told him, both of them, so much about.

"Never mind for now." She hugged them and put the amulets on them.

She'd considered splitting it into three, but people thought she had it. It was better if she didn't have _any_ of it. It wasn't like she wanted to make them even more targets, but she could teach them a simple spell to hide them. No chance of just tucking them under clothes, even cut in half they were very bulky. Sparda had been considering dividing it in two so she wouldn't be the only one to carry it (and it couldn't be destroyed with her, ruining his chances of reviving her) when he died: he'd discussed it with her and his notes had been left out.

She'd waited until now to actually do it. They were old enough to run if anything happened. Also, she could attach spells to the things so she could watch over them, find them if she needed to. That would get more and more useful as their ability to break out and wander around unsupervised increased.

She'd decided she couldn't keep them cooped up at home anymore. They needed to socialize, get used to other people. People weaker than them. Currently it was her and animals, and animals were weaker things they could eat. She didn't want them to fold humans in with animals. She'd taken them out a few times so people knew they were alive, doctor's appointments and meetings she absolutely couldn't do over the phone (she didn't dare leave them home alone).

She went back into the kitchen to bring out glasses of milk. Dante and Vergil were already wielding forks. Not against each other, but to eat bites of cake, although Dante was clearly considering just taking bites out. "Don't even think about it."

Vergil drank his milk but Dante asked, "Can I have tomato juice?"

"We don't have any." She'd made it one time when there was a surplus of tomatoes and Dante was sick, and since then he drank it every chance he got. "We just ran out." And wouldn't have more until the tomatoes were in season again. Well, she could order some… it wouldn't be fresh. She made a note to do that and surprise him. Or she could buy it when they were out in civilization. She loved the castle, and it was a good thing it was in the middle of nowhere so the kids could run around in forests on the mountains, but she missed New York.

"Boys, do you remember the last time I took you with me to go to London?"

They looked up from their cakes and nodded, mouths full. Vergil swallowed. "Yes, mother."

"What did you think about it?"

Vergil frowned. "We couldn't fight or run around. Someone pinched my cheek."

"It was boring," Dante agreed.

"Well, that's too bad because we're going to be going on more trips like that."

"But Mother!"

"Don't 'but Mother' me, boys. You need to start going places, meeting people, and not scaring them. Your Father and I wanted you to make friends and learn how to interact with your peers."

"Peers?" Vergil asked.

"Peers means people like us," Dante told him. "Like 'jury of your peers.'"

"But there aren't any people like us."

"Except on Vee-doo-mary."

"Vie du _Marli_," Eva corrected him. "And yes, there are some other people like you there. Like Matier." They'd only talked to her on the phone. Now that Sparda was dead more and more sorcerers were popping up all over the place. And Mundus was about to be resurrected… it was threatening to turn her hair white. Like Sparda's. The thought cheered her up a little. "Wouldn't you like to meet her?"

"No."

It wouldn't be safe to go to the island in any case. Those with devil's blood made excellent sacrifices: there was a lot of power and Mundus' generals wanted them all dead, the descendants of those who had fought Mundus. Just like her babies, only less so.

"It'll be interesting. It's a big would out there, I'm sure there'll be a lot of things you like," she told them.

"But we couldn't bring our swords and practice!" Vergil complained.

"We'll bring your swords this time, we'll just have to keep them hidden. Normal people don't have swords. We're going to pretend to be normal people."

"But lying to people is wrong!"

So like their father. "We're not going to lie, we're just not going to tell the truth. People won't ask about what they don't think exists. That's how your Father did it. Think of it as a game. Like hiding from animals when you're hunting them." Whoops, bad analogy. "Or like little bunnies hiding from a wolf."

Dante and Vergil looked at each other. "There are bad people who want to hurt us," Vergil knew.

"Because of Father."

"Which is bad because people should like Father because he was a hero."

"Yes, your father was a man who fought for the weak. He had courage and a righteous heart." She never, ever wanted them to be ashamed of their blood, even if it made them… not totally human. Some would say less than human. She would say more. "You should be very proud to be his sons." She told them this all the time. She wanted it to be something they knew in their bones, because words would hurt. But not as much as guns and scythes.

Vergil nodded firmly, Dante too. "Yes, Mother."

"Your father liked to travel the world and talk to people. And kill demons. That was how he met me. He was in New York because he'd heard of a sorcerer, and I had been hired to destroy whatever was killing the people up there by the mob…"

"You've told us this before, Mother."

Dante looked vaguely disappointed.

"Your father protected humanity again that night. And I still shot at him. I was wrong to shoot at him. If I can mess up like that, so are a lot of other people. And Mundus and his servants hate your father too."

"Because Father beat them up." Vergil looked viciously satisfied. "When I grow up I'm going to beat them up too!"

"That's great, Vergil. I'm sure you will. But you'll need to practice and train very hard, and learn a lot of things. If you meet people, you can learn things from them."

"You've taught us a lot of stuff, Mother." Dante looked offended on her behalf. Why would they need another teacher?

Her children had too high an opinion of her. One of these days… No, she would protect them. She'd promised Sparda's memory.

"I'm good, Dante, but I don't know everything. Someday you two will be stronger than me. And I can't teach you how to use your powers as demons." She would have to take them to Vie du Marli one of these days. Maybe when they were in their early teens and could fight much, much better. Even for Sparda's blood they wouldn't be able to spare a strong enough and skilled enough fighter to properly teach these two, not enough to send them off the island. "Or swordfighting. I don't know that either. Vergil, you've thought up a lot of moves but I can't spot their weak points."

Vergil looked offended. "They're good moves! People in movies use them!"

"But movie fighting isn't real fighting," she reminded him. "They're actors. Like you're going to have to be."

About two and a half years. It would be about five times that long until they were adults.

"Vergil, Dante, I know you want to stay here." Where it's safe. Hopefully. "But we're going to have to think of the future." They were Earth's only hope. When Mundus revived… who else could face him?

She wanted to scream to the universe. Not her babies!

But the universe never listened, and the only god worth placing faith in had been Sparda.

And look how that turned out.


	25. Codicil E: Sundays

_Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry. _

_The fic is technically complete, but it can go on hiatus if it wants to! Seriously, for the next month+ I'm going to be working on editing my original novel for a college project and am not going to be writing fanfic. I'll keep updating SIn because I'm doing chapters in advance, but that'll be it. So that means it'll be a while before there's any more of this, sorry. Let me know what you would like to see next, romance or non-depressing chibi fluff or…_

_Well, the novel actually doesn't give that much information about Eva's death. Code 2: Vergil (the manga) actually gives more. So it looks like I'm not going to have to majorly revise Rapture due to the novel. Huzzah. If anyone wants to see my first thingy on Eva's death, check out Rebellion's story in SIn. All the chapters are really stand-alone, and this one takes place before all the others anyway, so don't worry if you're not reading the story. _

_For anyone interested in the genesis of this story, I have three goals here: a) Dante likes strawberry sundaes in the novel, b) to show why he quotes the phrase "devils never cry" so much, and c) Dante talks about Eva having to tell him to clean up after himself a lot in the manga. Since we know so little about Dante's childhood I'm trying to cover everything we _do_ know._

_This is the first of the Codicils so far, taking place when they are four._

_-_

"Now remember to put them back when you've finished using them." Eva gave them a level stare, hands braced on hips, to impress them with the seriousness of this task.

"Yes Mommy!" Vergil took the box of tools with the hammer and Dante took the saw and they ran outside to go find some poor defenseless tree.

Eva smiled after them and looked around the gatehouse that served as the garage. They should be able to cobble something together, and she'd have plenty of time to check them over and make sure they hadn't left any sharp nails pointing out. Although they were pretty good carpenters, she'd made them put back together so much furniture over the years. It didn't stop them from breaking it. In fact, she had a sneaking suspicion that they'd deliberately wrecked the dining room table one time so they had an excuse to play with nails. She would have punished them, but they'd fixed it before she found out and she'd been too busy to see the smirks. Hindsight was always twenty/twenty… although usually they regarded it as a chore. Although they'd made their own loft beds for their rooms after she'd made them go into separate rooms. She was amazed they didn't fall down… not that they would be seriously hurt by this.

Carpentry wasn't a chore today.

She just hoped this was a good idea. They'd promised to look after them, and it would teach them responsibility.

"Lunch is in the refrigerator!" She called after them. She'd made sandwiches and put them on one of the lower shelves.

She checked her watch and got in the big truck, driving down to the village at the bottom of the mountain. The truck from the train station in the nearest big town had come on Saturday as usual, and there had been a call saying her orders had arrived. The postmaster had kept them for her overnight.

She'd debated making it a surprise, when she'd first had the idea, but having hostages against the twins' good behavior had been priceless. They'd had to earn these gifts.

She hummed as she drove down the mountain. She probably wouldn't be back before dark.

When the children were young she'd had people make deliveries, but now? With the twins the bundles of curiosity they were? They might ambush the driver or something.

She always tried to find something for them to do before she went down, but one time they'd almost followed her and she'd had to discipline them. She'd told them to stay home.

The village wasn't New York. It was small and everyone called her Lady Eva, in German of course. It made her homesick. This was Sparda's place, not hers, this little village like something out of a horror movie. And she lived in the dark castle on the crags they warned people not to go to.

In her case, not because of a vampire (or devils) but because trespassers would be (detected by the wards and) shot.

Coloring books. Salt, sugar, flour, meat, more vegetables… they just ate so much. Little black holes.

She loaded everything herself. She couldn't open all the boxes and bags, but she could check for tampering. Though she doubted anyone would try a bomb, and the wards wouldn't let anything cursed pass.

She'd driven through the boundary once and felt the truck shake. When she'd stopped on the other side she'd found boxes strewn on the road where the wards had stopped one coming with the truck and that one pushed others out. She'd had to carry each one through one at a time until she found it was the canister of olive oil that held the curse, one specifically targeted against baby demons.

She'd put it in a special box she had gone to get and followed the directions for a counter-curse.

The next time she'd gone down to the village the paper had news of a group of tourists that had come to hike having died mysteriously. She'd smiled.

Sorcerers got what they deserved. People after her family got what they deserved.

And if they hadn't been sorcerers (the curse had been a very familiar type) she didn't care.

Sparda's children. Who knew how powerful they would be. She didn't. So she had to teach them responsibility and caring, and what better way than this?

She put the last box in the seat beside her and headed back up the mountain.

When she got to the ancient gate across the gully the road went along that marked the boundary of the territory Vergil and Dante were allowed in the boys were standing on top of it and waving. She smiled at their eagerness and drove through, waving back. They ran along beside the car, jumping up to peer through the window at her cargo and shouting.

"Yay!"

"Thank you Mommy!"

She smiled at their joy. They looked so bright and happy, so innocent. She'd do anything to keep them this way.

She arrived at the gatehouse eventually and ordered, "Help me with the perishables."

They eagerly carried boxes they couldn't see over too and fro. They had no trouble navigating. They never tripped. Never. Not even when they took their first steps, Vergil first then Dante copying him, walking over to Sparda's arms… she shook her head.

And cursed, that she would have to flinch from such a blazingly happy memory.

Still raw. She would heal in time, she told herself.

It had been two years. How long would it take? How long until she would stop yearning? How long for the phantom pain to disappear, for her body to learn the limb was severed?

Finally she went back to the car and carried _the _box.

"Can we see?"

"Please Mommy?" They jumped up again in their eagerness.

She laughed softly. "Come on."

They followed her into the kitchen where she put the box down and opened it.

Revealing two Husky puppies, big-pawed and awkward.

Vergil and Dante knelt down next to the box and watched, eyes wide open.

The puppies braced their paws on the sides of the box to try to get at the new people. Her boys looked at her. "Hold out your hands like this, fingers curved and palms down." She went first, letting them sniff her and lick her hand. The boys did the same.

The white and grey puppies hesitated, tails pausing in their wagging, then they wuffed and licked enthusiastically.

Why had they... Oh. They were young, but they must have been able to tell there was something odd about Vergil's and Dante's scents. What if they had rejected the boys? They would have been heartbroken! She gave a quiet sigh of relief at the close call.

"Mommy, which one's mine?" Vergil asked.

Eva looked at their collars. "This one is Blue, so he's yours, Vergil." She'd been a little nonplussed by the names they'd picked, but they boys had been adamant.

"So you're red. Hello Red!" Dante grinned. Red wuffed again, tail hitting the box with increasingly rapid thumps.

Eva reached in and picked up Blue. "Boys, go make sure all the doors are closed. I'm going to take them out of the box."

"Okay!" They ran and came back quicker than they should have been able to. Eva put down Blue and then Red.

"Boys, hold still."

The puppies ran around, sniffing everything, and though her boys clearly itched to catch and pet them they didn't move, not wanting to have the puppies they had just gotten taken away. That was good self control. She was very pleased with them.

The puppies frisked around, the boys watching them avidly.

Eva stood up. "I'm going to get food for them, they must be hungry. I'll show you how to feed them this once and after this it's your job, okay?"

"Yes Mommy!" Eager little beavers.

She knelt and opened the cupboard with the bowls and dog food. A blue bowl for Blue and a red bowl for Red. The boys had made them themselves. "Now, you take this scoop, fill it once and pour it into the bowls. Then you carry the bowls over to the sink and run the hot water until it's bathwater warm. Then you pour the warm water into the bowls with the scoop. Then you leave it five minutes until the food gets mushy enough and then you give it to them to eat." She left the bowls on the counter to wait. "Got that?"

They nodded.

"Now, sit down at your table and we'll have sundaes to celebrate. I just got more frozen strawberries."

They sat down, the dogs following them. Now they pet the puppies. One of them yelped as Vergil tugged on an ear. "Gently!"

"But Mom, Blue is my dog and he was going to Dante!"

"He doesn't know he's your dog yet. Dogs are slow to learn, they're not as smart as people. And you're not going to make him _want_ to be your dog by hurting him, now are you?"

"Yes, Mommy." Vergil apologized to Blue as Eva made the sundaes.

Red was perched on Dante's lap and licking Dante's face. Dante licked him back, laughing. When Eva saw that she frowned. "Dante, stop that. People don't lick things, dogs do."

"But he likes it!"

"It's still not a good thing to do." Not that Dante needed to worry about germs.

Soon after the boys started on their sundaes she gave the puppies their food.

Her children were happy and the puppies were wagging their tails. She smiled and made herself a sundae too to celebrate. She hadn't eaten in the village.

"Okay, you can play with the puppies now." They immeditly got down off the chairs and crouched on all fours. The puppies licked their faces and Dante batted at what she thought was Red.

They all tumbled down on the ground and Eva found she needed to go to the bathroom. "Stay here!"

When she came back, Vergil met her in the hall looking guilty. "Mommy, we broke…"

"If you broke something, you'd better fix it, mister!" What was it this time? "Vergil, I'm ashamed of you. You can't even manage one day of good behavior? Now we'll have to put the puppies away on their very first day here!"

Vergil looked ashamed. "I'm sorry, Mommy. We tried fixing them, but we don't know how." Vergil tugged on her arm. "Please show us how?"

The puppies were lying still on the ground, Dante sitting by them and poking them. His face looked up at hers expectantly as her face fell. Oh no. Maybe it was just a broken leg? Then why were they silent instead of whimpering? There wasn't any blood… She knelt by them and checked their pulses. Nothing.

"Vergil, I'm sorry. I can't fix this. They're dead."

Dante reached in his pocked and took out a gold orb. He touched it to Red. When nothing happened, he touched it to Red again, harder. Jabbed it. Dante whimpered questioningly at him. "Mommy! It's not working! You said…"

She shook her head. "Gold orbs only work if you use them _right_ when you die." If the spells even worked on animals at all. They had to be targeted specifically enough they didn't go off when bacteria died, right? "They're dead, Dante. And they're going to stay that way."

"But Blue! Mommy, you gotta fix Blue!" Vergil tugged at her, face crunching up. Dante whined again.

"I can't fix Blue," she said evenly, trying to calm him down. "What happened."

"We were playing roll on the ground, and then we chased them, and pounced, but they didn't get up to pounce back."

Eva felt around. "You snapped their necks." What an accident. This was her fault, she must not have mad it clear enough how gentle they needed to be. "Living things are easy to break!"

"We killed them!" Vergil wailed.

Dante echoed him.

Eva's eyes shone with desperation and she gathered up her babies. "Vergil, Dante… I'm sorry I can't make it all batter." She'd do anything to be able too.

Vergil hit at her. "Blue! Make Blue come back!"

She grabbed his arm and wrenched it around. "Don't you _dare_ hit me or so help me I'll…" Cold fury. That was the tone she needed for this. She could _not_ afford to let them think they could hit her… later she would shoot them.

"It's cause we're demons and demons kill things!" Dante wailed. "I didn't mean to!"

If it was inevitable because he was a demon than it wasn't _Dante's_ fault, Eva figured after being startled. "No, you're not just a devil." They had to learn they were human to.

"Why not?" Vergil asked, sniffling. "Daddy was. People say we're devils, that's why you said we can't meet people yet."

She wiped away a tear from her precious baby's face. "Devils never cry."


	26. Codicil F: Sensei

Disclaimer: I do not own Devil May Cry, nor do I make money at this.

Awhile ago I requested a fic taking place in the 'verse of the DMC comics (not the manga, an American comic series that is a rewriting of DMC1) on the livejournal group dmcexworks, and the writer who now is Gunstrap here wrote me a fic called _My First Royalguard_. In exchange, he requested this:

"The fanfic should be about Vergil's Iaido training. I want to have someone speculate on how he learned to fight so well. Dante seems more like a self taught, devils-own (har har) style.

Vergil however, had to learn from somebody...or through a book. But I would like a fanfic on that."

Which seemed an excellent thing to add to Rapture, so here this is. From now on, Rapture will be updating every other week for awhile.

-

Ideally, she would have been able to have hunters train them. However, there was the worry about someone deciding that despite their father's heroism, her two children growing up into strong devils with a through knowledge of the forces defending earth was something that could and should be snipped in the bud: the temptation was simply too great, and she knew the paranoia of her former colleagues.

Sparda had been Sparda, the savior of them all, and there had been plenty of objections to him. There were some that had been staunch allies and defenders of his reputation, but, even so…

She didn't want her children anywhere _near_ anyone with the strength to kill them, for safety's sake. It made her old paranoia act up with a _vengeance_. Not to mention that hunters had enemies, sorcerers the hunters foiled but hadn't managed to kill yet, and their homes were often kept under surveillance by the bodiless demons.

She could guess at the bounty offered by Mundus' generals for the heads of her children. The power of a god, immortality, the viceroyalty of Earth… the stars themselves would be promised, for the extinction of Sparda's line. Every sorcerer on Earth would have heard of it by now. She remembered the attempt on her own life, which would probably have succeeded save for Sparda. She would have had no chance at finding the sniper in time, and with a gun that could see through walls and fire bullets through them, accurate over a range of who knew how far, well. One would run out of gold orbs eventually, despite all the precautions you took.

There were the Vie du Marlians, but that island attracted sorcerers from all over the world: the place was crawling with artifacts of demonic power (and halfbreeds to capture and sacrifice: they'd fought Mundus, his generals wanted them dead too, or at least so reduced in number they wouldn't be able to resist the upcoming invasion.

The invasion her children needed to be trained for, as they were the best hope humanity had.

They had counted on Sparda being alive, being able to teach them and fight in the war, lead the war and make sure his children survived. Now, he was dead, and she was left with them.

She had orbs, they could have safely sparred with her, but she knew nothing about fencing and seemed to have only a minimal aptitude for it: gunfighting habits were much too ingrained to fundamentally change her fighting style now. She took some lessons, but…

And then something that she had immediately dismissed occurred to her again as she took lessons from one of the few hunters strong enough to use melee in battle, mainly to fend off demons that managed to get too close.

The experts on swordfighting were mostly unaware of demons.

She'd rejected the idea of having some expert fencer train Dante and Vergil because he couldn't spar with them: she could slip him blue orbs enough to survive being skewered when one of them failed to pull a punch, but he would ask questions and, being someone well aware of physical limits, would quickly realize they were not normal.

Also, human fencers both European and Eastern used swords that were much, much lighter and smaller.

Then she realized that to Dante and Vergil, Rebellion and Yamato were as easy to move as the lighter swords human masters used were to them. And sparring? They could spar with each other as they did gunfighting: that was in fact a much better idea than getting them used to fighting weaker humans. They needed to be ready for opponents much stronger and faster than humans.

So, in effect, they needed to learn the moves, the blows, from a human master, work out on their own how to convert them for devil arms, and then spar with each other. So, all they needed to do with their instructor was kata.

She researched fighting styles and there was simply too much to choose one, then she had the idea of looking through Sparda's address book: he knew the most interesting people. There were three people listed under sparring opponents (normal) that weren't crossed out: she called and was told one of them was dead, both of the others had moved but she managed to track them down. That was what private detectives were for, besides getting evidence of infidelity (she'd heard the argument with her ear pressed to the floor after the one her mother had hired brought her photos).

One of them was busy with tournaments for the foreseeable future; the other had retired and was living in the mountains in Japan. She decided to start with the one who had free time on his hands: he might be bored by now, teachers loved eager students who learned fast (and her children picked things up quick as lightening), and she was very persuasive when she wanted to be. Not to mention that she could tell a sob story about his old friend wanting his sons to be trained but dying before he could, loving wife wanting to fulfill her husband's wishes, cute children with very good puppy dog eyes having to worry about assassins… And she wouldn't even have to lie!

So they left the castle, where they had gone to look at Sparda's records, and headed for Japan.

They had been there before long enough for the boys to perfect their Japanese (and her to polish up hers), and explore the culture. Sparda had talked about perhaps spending a year here: he loved old Japanese culture as much as old European. She would have though he would perfer Chinese, with the tranquility and the cultural dictates, and he did find it interesting but it had been a place to travel through, not to live.

Now, of course, traveling to China was out of the question. In the Cultural Revolution, the hunters had been forced out of the country: there were some that worked in secret, but the families had been well-known and easy to target.

However, the destruction of old lore meant that there were very few books useful to sorcerers left in China. There were some regions that the government simply ignored as they ignored demon attacks and infestations, covering them up: regions that since the Civil War had been the private domains of sorcerers.

The hunter community was not looking forward to the day one of those sorcerers made a truce with the government. A sorcerer gaining power in a dictatorship would be a nightmare. Even Stalin wasn't crazy enough to expel the hunters.

No, China was not safe. There were very few people _becoming_ sorcerers there, due to the lack of books and the fact the established sorcerers took care to wipe out the competition early, but the ones that survived there had accumulated power over decades, were firmly entrenched, and she wasn't crazy enough to take her children anywhere in reach of them.

Japan, however, except for Switzerland, had the most hunters per capita in the world, perhaps because it had once been an incredibly hot spot before the bindings had been built up into fortresses over the centuries, and perhaps also because Sparda had been there so often and trained so many. The hunter families there were some of the most friendly towards Sparda.

They would be safer there than most anywhere except the castle. And it was not safe to stay there in isolation: Dante and Vergil needed to learn the world and its people, to live outside confinement, in the real world.

Partly so they would not be helpless if anything happened to her, partly so that they would learn to care about humanity.

They needed to _learn_ to have any chance at growing up, let alone growing up healthy and happy.

Luckily the children were past the stage where they needed blood or red meat daily, it was rather expensive here. Not that with Sparda's fortune money was an object, but still. Eva liked tempura, Vergil sashimi, Dante anything one could put wasabi on.

Sparda had hired the best to make her kimonos and other garb, creating things that looked exactly like traditional designs but that it was possible to easily rip pieces out of and create something one could fight in, but she had to make new traditional outfits for the boys once they arrived: they'd outgrown theirs already. Making a good impression was important.

They took a train to the nearest stop, which was a little town out in the middle of nowhere. There was a small inn, for people who came here to hike, but it wasn't the season.

The next day they headed up the mountain.

She thought he was in his fifties, though he looked much healthier. She ended up not having to tell him much of anything: Vergil had gone into the clearing where he was waiting before she did (the children did that sometimes, one going ahead the other staying behind her, keeping a lookout: she thought they'd picked that out from when she insisted on going ahead, they said they were big boys now and could guard themselves) and was instantly recognized as his old friend's and teacher's son.

When Sparda, or Shiro-sensei as he seemed to be nicknamed as some kind of in-joke, didn't appear with his family, the man, who insisted on being called by his first name, Seijuro as Sparda's family and the masters of his style were practically family. They had been trading techniques and sparring since the style's founder had met a white-haired traveler, who he had thought at first was a youkai and consequently attacked.

She wondered when he said that if he knew Sparda's identity, there was something in his eye that indicated he was making a joke, though she wasn't sure if it was at the 'mistake' being the truth (only he was a good youkai), or an honorable man being mistaken for a demon.

In response to her request he said that it was practically a duty to do so, and that as they were Shiro's family they would of course be naturals and a pleasure and relief to train after he had been cursed with an idiot for his last student.

So, they moved into a spare room.

Dante was very, very irritated and bored at 'waving a stick in the air,' he wanted swordfighting like he and Vergil had done, which basically consisted of bashing at each other. She told him he was here to do it properly, and reminded him she had damn well brought her shotgun, and if he was rude to the nice man… he grumbled but did as he was told.

Vergil, however, loved it, and made Dante do it too.

They quickly mastered each move and movement, graduating to more complex ones. When the instructor had them spar with each other (she'd begged him not to spar with them until they were used to sparring with each other, he'd been curious but complied: she didn't want him to break an arm and delay the training), Dante broke his wooden sword right away.

"Dante!" Eva called out, hands on hips. "I said _gentle and slow._"

"But that's no fun!"

"Most of life isn't fun! You do things because you need to do them, and because I'm telling you to!" The conversation was in English, which Seijuro clearly didn't understand a word of.

Dante grumbled and tried again.

And they had a problem.

Vergil could copy the movements exactly and calmly. Dante got excited too easily. He started resorting to his own moves and using his full strength no matter how much he tried to concentrate on holding back. Eva punished him at first, but he just couldn't help it.

Seijuro suggested that he practice with Vergil to ensure Vergil could learn the moves and then Vergil could spar with Dante and tutor him, with their 'perferred weapons and true strength.'

She was sure then he had some idea of the truth, but it never came out until he told them he had shown Vergil all he knew, and they needed to find another master if she wished her children to reach the level of their father, who had known the styles of all the world.

When they left, she thought for a second she would have to call to Vergil to come with them, he was hesitating at the edge of the clearing while Dante was forging ahead, eager to leave. It struck her that they had never before been so far apart: now they were arguing about which were better, guns or swords. They'd never had an argument that occurred so many times.

Well, eventually they would have to grow more distant, as they grew up and discovered different interests like this one.

But it still was sad to see.


	27. Codicil G: Movies

_Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry or Viewtiful Joe, nor do I receive any financial compensation for the time spent writing advertisements for them. _

_Did you know that whispers can be heard farther away than simply talking very quietly?_

_-_

The children were dressed: check. Fortunately Dante had grown out of arguing that wearing a shirt was stupid because he didn't need one soon after she had told him that pants were not negotiable, otherwise people would laugh at him, and few pants were red, so if he wanted to wear red he needed a red shirt, or jacket like hers. Over a shirt. No shirt, no jacket. (Same with shoes and service.)

The children were fed: check. Stuffed, to be more accurate. Luckily she had found a reliable errand boy (it was sexist to hire a maid, and even if she was still faithful she could still look) to clean and buy groceries (while they were out. Having someone normal in the house when Vergil and Dante were home and considered themselves allowed to speak naturally instead of holding back like in public was _asking for it._), because the fridge still ran out of room if she tried to buy more than a few days in advance. Nothing lasted long enough to go bad.

They were allowed to fix their own midnight snacks as long as they cleaned up the kitchen, or at least made an effort at it. She didn't want them waking _her_ up in the middle of the night. Babies were allowed to do that, and she had Sparda to help her out then, six-year-olds were not.

She dreaded the grocery bills when they were actually teenagers. Good thing Sparda was loaded.

The children had been duly scared stiff about what would happen if they yelled at the screen in the theater like they did at home: futile, but check. Dante always got far, far too excited at adventure movies, and Vergil tried to tell the characters what to do. It was very amusing for her, but probably not for people who hadn't seen the movie a million times (she wondered if all children wanted to watch movies over and over and over, or was it just her two?) and were trying to actually listen to the dialogue.

The children were loaded into the car: Check.

The children were buckled: "Dante! Seatbelt! Now!"

"But I don't need to wear one!"

"Normal people do, at least the ones with brains. When you're on your own, you can act like an idiot and not wear one, but when you are with me you will do what I tell you to do and buckle it up _right now!_"

"But Mom!"

"Don't 'but Mom' me! Do it right now or there will be no popcorn at the movie and you'll get the shotgun when we get home." She pointed at him to emphasize her words.

Vergil was sighing. "Do it, Dante, or she might not take us to the movie." Stupid little brothers.

"But she promised!" Still, Dante buckled up.

"Vergil, tell me if his hand goes anywhere near that buckle." She turned around and took the wheel. "You know better than to say 'but Mom.' Just for that, you're getting a smaller drink than your brother."

"B-Mmmph!" She heard a hand clamp over Dante's mouth. Smart cookie, Vergil.

She turned the key, backed out of the garage, and started driving.

Dante started humming and kicking his feet, drumming along. She smiled.

The problem with Dante was that he was a very independent person, and logical in an odd way. If something was annoying and useless then he didn't want to do it, which made sense. The problem was that he didn't see that because people expected something, or because that was the way you did it if you didn't want to be seen as weird were perfectly valid reasons something wasn't useless, especially if you _were_ weird and didn't want people to notice.

Vergil simply seemed to accept that people were stupid and you had to do a lot of stupid stuff to seem stupid enough to fit in, which was her take on the matter as well.

Sparda had enjoyed walking the tightrope between fitting in and not, finding a ground where he could act as eccentric as he wanted yet still be respected. Having a lot of money and appearing venerable helped, as well as a reputation for having a steel trap mind beneath the air of distracted good will and the centuries out of date clothing. She was sure he would have taught the children how to manage that balance, but she wasn't sure. She remembered being taught how to fit in among the rich, but all the things she had learned were the girl version, and she had spent her adult life acting however she wanted: as a hunter, you were supposed to be a little crazy.

She didn't like the rate at which hunters were dying off. She'd cracked some numbers, the best numbers she could find, and it was not looking good. Fewer ones had the time or desire to take the risk to train replacements, fewer new ones were surviving, they were being driven deeper underground by the rise in the numbers of sorcerers taking the offensive against them…

Really, she didn't want to think of her children fighting nearly alone. Even the Guardian Tribe seemed to slowly be losing the war of attrition against the constant sorcerers attacking them.

Today wasn't a day to think about that, though. Today was the opening day of the new Captain Blue movie. There had been advertisements for it everywhere. Both her children adored him, even Dante despite the fact that blue was Vergil's color. Superman wore red and blue, they both liked him, and Spiderman, and Batman because he was called the dark knight, like their father. Among the X-men, Vergil liked Beast and Dante liked Wolverine. She'd arranged for them to get all the comics of their favorites: it delighted them when the issues arrived, they would read them, heads together and one of them turning the page without needing to ask if the other was done reading, Dante babbling excitedly and Vergil also making comments about the coolness.

Soon enough, they were there. She parked the car, unbuckled, and turned to look at them. "Now, no talking in the theatre once the movie starts that isn't a _quiet_ whisper. I mean it. Three strikes and we drive back home and wait until it comes out on video." She shook her finger at them.

"Yes, Mother." Vergil nodded.

"Yes Mom," Dante said at the same time, nodding several times rapidly, eyes shining with excitement and not really paying attention, she was sure, to what he was saying, so focused was he on the upcoming treat.

"Good," she said anyway, unbuckling her seat belt. "Now let's go get that popcorn."

They followed her into the theater, sticking close as they had been taught. They actually didn't wander away on their own that often. Vergil was more obedient about sticking close to her, and Dante didn't go chasing something shiny without dragging Vergil along to share it with him. So, as long as Vergil stayed, Dante stayed. Of course, if _Vergil _saw the shiny thing, or agreed with Dante that it must be chased after, then they were doomed. So she had to keep a close eye out.

Now, though, they made certain to stay close to her because she was the one with money to buy movie tickets, popcorn and juice.

"Three tickets to Captain Blue and the Revenge of the Squid King, one adult and two children." My, that was inexpensive, probably because this was a matinee. The next part was the expensive part.

As she went to the concession counter to order, they bent down to look at the candy display under the desk. "Mom," Dante started to ask.

"Dante, I already said you were going to have a smaller drink because you misbehaved. Do you honestly think I'm going to give you an _extra_ treat right after you were bad?"

"No, Mother." He slumped. "What about Vergil?" he tried again, perking up. Vergil was certain to share with him.

As Eva immediately pointed out. "And how much of that candy would you eat? No."

He slumped again.

"One large orange juice," for Vergil, "one medium apple juice," Dante's second favorite, after tomato juice, "And one of the largest tub of popcorn you have." She wasn't crazy enough to give them soda. She had never seen how they reacted to caffeine, and she hoped she never would.

He started getting her order. After she saw him get down the popcorn tub, she added, "Better make that two. And pour on the butter."

She paid and gave them their popcorn and drinks to carry.

Let's see, theatre six… the man had said it was to the right… all the way at the end of the hallway. By halfway down it the boys had left her behind. "Boys…"

They stopped and waited for her to catch up. "No running inside buildings," she reminded them, "Not even walking really fast."

Dante clearly thought this was damn stupid, and Vergil agreed though there wasn't as big a scowl on his face.

They had come early, so they got a good seat in the middle. She settled them on either side of her so she could keep a better eye on them: Vergil on the right, Dante on the left.

"Can we talk now?" Dante asked.

"Yes, until the previews start."

"Previews?" Vergil asked.

"Before they show movies they show advertisements for future movies. So you might see ones you will want to see. You can whisper to me that you like them, but no shouting out about how that's cool, Dante, or how you could beat the villain with one hand tied behind your back, Vergil."

"Maybe there'll be another movie about Dad, Vergil!"

Eva whapped Dante, just to get his attention. She bent down to his ear. "No saying or implying Sparda is your father in public!"

"But I didn't say that," he protested.

"Sir Lucian Thaddeus von Schwärzung never has and probably never will have a movie made about him, let alone 'another.' Sparda, on the other hand, has had several," she pointed out.

"Oh, right," he agreed, chagrined.

Other people came in, the previews started: Vergil was the one to speak up first, about a really stupid-looking children's movie. "No one's going to watch that!"

Some of the audience snickered, Eva whapped him. "That's one strike," she whispered. Dante saw, and both were quiet for the rest of the previews.

Now, there were several things that irritated Eva about the Captain Blue movies.

No hunter would stand around, _in the open_, and talk about how great they were and how they were certain to foil the villain when they could be, you know, actually foiling, and getting to go home and eat and sleep sooner, not to mention get paid.

Dante and Vergil, however, were eating it up, eyes wide.

She just hoped they weren't taking mental notes. They knew they were going to grow up to be heroes, and she didn't want them to take comic book characters as role models, because the comics she had read all had people that acted as stupidly as the people in these movies.

Although the portrayal of the villains was pretty accurate. They _all_, at some point, even the smart ones, would rant about their plans, when they thought they had beaten you if no other time, unless you didn't give them time to. A lot of hunters did, within reason, because it was a good idea to know what it was you were specifically trying to prevent this time.

She noticed Dante raise his arm, about to shout out, and poked him hard in the stomach. He looked at her and she raised her hand with three fingers. "Thanks Mom," he whispered, blushing. Vergil noticed and looked, this should be a warning to him too.

Vergil touched her to get her attention later. "Mommy, the woman looks like you."

Well, she was… blonde, and wearing a (way too short) red dress, but other than that… Eva had nothing in common with a damsel in distress!

Vergil got another strike when the villain got defeated, Dante two during utterly dramatic moments.

Still, they made it through the movie.

"Boys, I'm very proud of you."

"I'm going to be just like Captain Blue when I grow up!"

"I'm going to be better!"

…Okay, time for a damage control lecture.


	28. Codicil H: Storytime

_Disclaimer: I do not own Devil May Cry, though I plan to buy the anime as soon as it comes out in the US. Nor will I get the money to do so by writing fanfiction. _

_-_

Bedtime. This was always a production.

She'd heard that getting them to take baths was the trouble, but not with this bathroom. There were individual baths attached to the suites, for European guests, but under the castle there was a hot spring: who knew if it were natural or Sparda-made.

There were many pools of various temperatures in a huge cavern, and there was even an area with a lot roof that had 'natural' showers. Seriously, water dripped out of holes in the roof. The water changed from really hot at the far right to cold at the left, the spray thicker and stronger the further in you went.

Sparda had about eighteen hundred years to fit this place out with everything it occurred to him to want or that a guest might want. Given all of this, the problem wasn't getting them to take a bath. No, it was getting them to _stop._

Still, she'd succeeded, and was currently carrying the two fed, dressed in footie pajamas, and otherwise ready children to their bedroom.

Their bed had railings around it to keep them from falling off when they rolled around in their sleep or started wrestling or whatever. She put them down into it, filled the blue plastic cup and the red plastic cup with cold water and middle temperature water respectively, and tucked them in.

She didn't know why she bothered with the tucking, except that she remembered it being done and it seemed like the thing to do: they quickly sat up and pulled the covers out of place.

"Story!" Dante clapped his hands.

"Mommy, story!" Vergil also demanded.

"And what story do you want tonight?" She asked teasingly.

"You know!"

"Daddy's story!"

She smiled. "Alright boys, I'll read it to you."

"Yay!"

She slid down the bars on one side of the bed so she could sit on the bed with them, climbing into the middle of the bed between them. They scooched up to either side of her lap eagerly.

Picking up the smaller book from the bedside table, she opened it to the bookmark. "Now, where were we last night?"

"The people in Babylion were fighting Daddy 'cause he was being a bad guy even though he didn't know that yet," Vergil reminded her.

"And they were losing because Daddy was the best and strongest!" Dante chimed in.

"Babylon, Vergil," she corrected gently. "Do you remember what Babylon looked like?"

"It had winged lions and big walls and stuff."

"And there was a really neat garden at the castle."

"Only the castle still wasn't as cool as our castle."

"Um-hum," she agreed, getting the other book, the large one, and opening it on her lap to the pages marked in it. "Here's the city…"

"Here's the gardens!" Dante pointed to a sketch of a man-made tropical mountain.

"And why is it Babylon when they had lions?" Vergil pointed to a bas-relief of a winged lion on a gate.

"I don't know, Vergil." She unfolded the map in the center of the page. "Let's see, the battle went like this," it was a copy of a map, planning and tracking the battle, when the walls and each quarter of the city had fallen, the progress made by the end of each night… "So I stopped reading when your father's armies had gotten this far, you see the orange line? That's the fourth day of fighting."

"Daddy won, right?" Vergil poked her.

"We'll see, won't we?" Of course he had won. Not that that was a good thing. "So, now you remember where we are I'll start reading now. Ahem." That was the signal for them to be quiet and pay attention. "During the false dawn of the third day of the battle, as the city's wards regained their strength with the return of the light and the quarters in which demolitions of the captured temples had not been completed quickly enough had to be abandoned less troops be lost fruitlessly attempting to keep them during the enemy's time of strength, I received a messenger from Mundus…"

"Boo!"

She smiled. "…Asking why I had not succeeded in destroying the city that dared to resist his conquest yet, and demanding that it fall before three nights had passed. He did not blame me for the failure, but rather my troops: they were drawn mainly from those who had once served the gods Mundus had defeated, and he doubted their devotion to him, especially that of those of two races."

"The people like us, right Mommy?"

"Yes, Vergil."

"Of course they didn't want to work for Mundus, Mundus was a meanie!" Dante nodded at the correctness of his statement.

"Yes, Dante, he is, but they didn't have a choice. Demons have to work for whoever beats them, it's the way they are."

"But Daddy stopped working for Mundus," Dante pointed out.

"He wasn't defeated by Mundus, he worked for him because he thought it was better to kill humans than devils that resisted Mundus' rule, since he didn't know humans were different then. So when he found out he wasn't doing the right thing, he stopped working for Mundus," Eva explained.

"Yeah, and then he saved all the humans." Vergil was very proud of his father.

"Yes, but that happened a lot later. Do you want me to skip ahead?" Eva offered.

"No, we want to hear the whole story this time." Dante snuggled against her.

"Okay, I'll start reading again: Mundus despised half-breeds, and had said that if they failed to prove their usefulness to him by taking the city under my command he would have them eaten, as is the fate of weak demons." Really, she wasn't sure she should be reading a lot of this to young children. Still, better they had nightmares now than the night before a battle. They shivered against her and she put the book down to hug them briefly.

"So, I studied the plans and the reports of the priests that had come over to the side of the new god, and confirmed the knowledge that the key to the ward network was the palace: if its wards could be deactivated, then the city would fall. The only ways to do that were either to destroy the building, which had failed, or to destroy the talisman that controlled the wards themselves: however this talisman was kept on the king's person at all times." She could almost hear Sparda's voice when she read this: he had written out this history of the war centuries ago: there were a few copies in other libraries but they were heavily guarded: they revealed too much truth for the world to learn of them and too much useful knowledge about demonkind and ancient human magic for sorcerers to be allowed to get their hands on them.

Sparda had loaned her a copy during their engagement, and then she had asked him questions…

"We had tried to have leviathans and other flying demons carry boulders over the palace and drop them, but the shield protected against physical attacks: they bounced and landed harmlessly, or mostly so, in the surrounding area. So the only recourse was to destroy the talisman. I had earlier considered sending someone to attempt to find and destroy it by stealth, but I judged it a mission requiring too much cunning to be entrusted to a lesser demon and with too high a risk of fatal failure to give the assignment to a Knight. Not only were the wards, when at their strongest, as hard to escape from as enter, but they cast a curse that weakened demons and confused their thoughts: even an intelligent devil could make a misstep, be detected and destroyed in the heart of the enemy camp." This copy, however, had been amended, explaining things that would be obvious to the well-studied demonologists that normally would be the only ones to read this book.

This copy, she knew, had been written for the purpose she used it for now: to teach Sparda's sons the truth of their heritage and their father's legend, both the good things and the evil things, the whys of it all.

She imagined what would never be: her husband sitting in an armchair in his library, a boy sitting on either side, squeezed in between him and the armrests, leaning against him to look at the book of drawings he had made so they could see as well as hear his story.

"As I had pledged my loyalty to Emperor Mundus, it was my duty to see to the welfare of his cause by preventing the deaths of soldiers of his empire if I could, even if the possible cause of those deaths was his displeasure. For that reason I had requested that these warriors be allowed to prove themselves in battle. I also did not want to lose face as I would if they failed to complete the task I had said they could." Okay, this was a little wordy for something to read to children. Still, they seemed to be able to mostly follow it.

"Lose face?" Though sometimes they asked questions like that.

"It means be embarrassed in front of people, like you are if you trip," she told Vergil.

"Oh. So Daddy didn't want to stop the people from being killed because they were people, but because they were useful to Mundus and he'd look stupid?" Vergil asked.

Yes, they were very bright boys. "Yes. This was before he realized you shouldn't judge people just by what they could do for you."

"He saved them, right?" Dante asked. Daddy did the right thing and won even if it wasn't for the right reasons yet?

"You'll find out. Ahem: So, I decided to try to destroy the talisman myself."

That got their attention, eyes big and round. Daddy was really brave, she could tell they were thinking, going into curses and where everyone was going to try to kill him if they found him. "I was sure that I would be able to replace a soldier, then a priest or some other and be let through the wards without detection." Daddy was really clever and sneaky! "Their method of testing if someone was a demon or not was to cast a curse that caused pain to demons and humans with demonic energy in them: I had that test used on myself and was sure that I could hide my reaction to the discomfort." Daddy was also tough!

"So, at the end of that night's fighting, I remained in one of the quarters that we had ransacked and took the form of a civilian. When soldiers came to check the quarter as soon as our troops withdrew with the light, I replaced one and was let into their post with them. I then replaced an officer, then a priest."

The scary thing was how _easy_ this seemed to have been. Well, if he thought no one else could do it probably not _easy_, but still.

These people had been at war for the Underworld for some time: they had through knowledge of demons and were alert to the threat. If Sparda could move among them during wartime like this, what about the governments today? Hunters checked officials intermittently, but who knew how long a demon who replaced, say, an aide to the president could go without detection?

Her children, their children, had to know what they were up against.

"I must confess that in those days I was somewhat vain. The conceit of having my shadow reveal my nature was something I devised then, partly out of confidence that even with that handicap I could pass among humans undetected and partly in order to mock the futility of humans that could not even find me with such a betraying sign attempting to resist their conquest by a superior race. It was very foolish and arrogant of me."

"It's not being arrogant if you really are that good," Dante disagreed.

"Yes, Dante, but still."

"Will we be able to look like people when we get older?" Vergil asked.

"You should be, if you can figure out how." Figure out on your own.

It should be him here, these words should be spoken by his voice.

Still, at least they were his own words: at least her children could come this close to having the chance to listen to him tell the story that would shape their lives.


	29. 0 Faded Photographs

Disclaimer: Don't own Devil May Cry.

This was written for the 1sentence group on livejournal: you are given fifty themes and write a sentence for each of them about a pairing. These take place in the Rapture fic-verse, so I decided to have it be another side-chapter. The real part IX will be posted on Friday, which is regularily when I update.

This takes into account what was revealed in the Veiwtiful Joe AU Kamiya (the director of DMC1) did, which is that Eva's soul is in the amulet and was what brought Trish back to life in the game. These sentences are little snapshots of moments. Let me know what you think, okay?

/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/

#01 – Comfort

Sparda always carried hot tea, to comfort the living with a little thing, a trapping of the rational world demons were outside, and breathing in the steam Eva knew this was one of the little things that made him greater than human.

#02 – Kiss

The first time they'd kissed, he had been afraid his teeth would grow into fangs of their own accord and known with shame she'd feared the same: neither had expected their noses to bump into each other.

#03 – Soft

Soft hair and smooth, flawless skin: Eva wondered, running her fingers through it, how anyone could miss the fact he was inhumanly perfect.

#04 – Pain

He lay there betrayed, dying, and knew the pain he felt as his soul left his body was nothing next to the pain she would feel when he never came home.

#05 – Potatoes

His antique clothing looked perfectly at home amidst echoing halls and antique rooms, but utterly ridiculous smiling at her in a fast food joint as she ate her French fries.

#06 – Rain

The rain was pouring down now, and the children were probably crying for their bottles, but Eva didn't want to go inside: to go inside would be to give up on him coming home.

#07 – Chocolate

The second time she'd met him, she'd been fascinated that a creature that fed on pain and death had a fondness for chocolates.

#08 – Happiness

He'd always gloried in blood and death and the destruction of his enemies, the strength and power of his own devil's blood, so why was spending time with a human he could kill with one blow making him the happiest he had ever been?

#09 – Telephone

She really should be keeping the line clear (what if someone called with a demon problem?) but talking about the Divine Comedy with someone who had met the author was just too fascinating.

#10 – Ears

She had told herself that she kept examining him minutely to find some trace of his inhuman nature, well, there was his shadow, but shouldn't he have fangs or pointed ears or something?

#11 – Name

In Latin, the first human language he had learned, Eve was Eva, and sometimes he felt that he was indeed a serpent, wanting her to abandon her purity for him.

#12 – Sensual

She should be fleeing in terror from his insect-like devil form, not running unclawed hands along the ridged carapace in a way that made him want to devour her.

#13 – Death

"I'm being terribly selfish, aren't I Sparda, I mean I'm human and I'm going to die and leave you alone and that's one more reason we shouldn't be together, but I don't care."

#14 – Sex

Human women had collapsed smelling of blood because of him before, but she was the first to do so still breathing, let alone gasp out, "Wow," and pull him down for a kiss.

#15 – Touch

The terrifying creature that stood before her felt smooth and hard under her hands, so different from skin softer than hers, but still the warmth was the same.

#16 – Weakness

Demons revered strength and despised weakness: he should kill her when she was wounded, not save her, but, after all, for a human she was the strongest soul he had ever seen.

#17 – Tears

She should stop this now: devils never cried, after all, and Sparda would certainly never have wished her to shed tears over him.

#18 – Speed

He moved with blinding speed when he fought, silent death that brought despair to those who faced him, skill and strength that left her behind in the dust: and yet he waited for her.

#19 – Wind

The wind was whipping the lace of his cravat out of place, so she fixed it for him.

#20 – Freedom

Two little words and she'd be giving away her freedom, binding herself to the thing who had enthralled her until she died, but she loved him so it was easy to say, "I do."

#21 – Life

The hunters of the world must think her even more of a damned traitor now that she was _breeding_ with it, but feeling the flutters of new life within her she really didn't give a damn.

#22 – Jealousy

It was a good thing she hadn't been with anyone before him: it would be a shame to kill his first innocent human in two thousand years out of jealousy.

#23 – Hands

His hands were strong enough, even in this human form and with his powers sealed, to punch through stone and yet they trembled holding their children until Eva, still exhausted from the delivery, told him to put them down on her before he dropped them, for whatever's sake.

#24 – Taste

He could see her fear, anger, hate, all the dark emotions his kind fed on, taste a trace of her blood when he kissed her, know what it would be like to devour her.

#25 – Devotion

She hated single motherhood, the two of them were running her ragged, but they were his children and now her life was utterly devoted to them.

#26 – Forever

His soul would exist forever in this Devil Arm long after she was dead and dust.

#27 – Blood

His blood was one of the keys that could undo the seal that protected this world, and now his blood slumbered under her heart.

#28 – Sickness

She had been irritated for some stupid reason when he'd told her he couldn't catch the flu, but having someone to bring her tissues and hot chocolate had more than made up for it.

#29 – Melody

He had had two thousand years to kill so she shouldn't be surprised he knew how to play the piano, she thought as she hummed along.

#30 – Star

When Eva had been thirteen she'd had a crush on the actor who had played Sparda in the movie, but the real thing was much, much better.

#31 – Home

Eva stared blankly for a while, finally saying, "Between your shadow and the fact that you wear skull jewelry, don't you think you're making it easy enough for people to figure out who you are _without_ the Dracula-style castle?"

#32 – Confusion

After changing their diapers, checking to see that their bottles were full, burping them, rocking them in her arms and singing a lullaby, Eva finally admitted to herself that without her almost mind-reading husband, she had no clue why the babies were crying.

#33 – Fear

She had died not knowing what had happened to him, died after years of living constantly with heartbreak and the fear that whatever had taken him from her would come for his children.

#34 - Lightning/Thunder

The first night in years there was another warm body in her bed, Eva had muzzily murmured, "Sparda, tuck the sheets in, it's getting cold," before she woke up enough to realize it was the boys, scared by the thunder.

#35 – Bonds

Finding out that the Sparda bank her father had had dealings with was owned by the actual Sparda had been a strange moment: seeing him talk with a subordinate about the bond market was peanuts after that.

#36 – Market

He dressed like a lord of old and the people here treated him like one, Eva thought as she walked through the village market, covertly watched by those curious about the new lady of the manor.

#37 – Technology

Sparda had fought with gun and sword, a harmony of technology and magic, human and demonic strength, so it struck her as strange that his half-blood sons each held one superior to the other.

#38 – Gift

When he had offered the Amulet to her as a gift she had grinned, taken it and said, "Most women only get little gems, but you've given me the fate of the world to wear around my neck like a pretty bauble."

#39 – Smile

It broke her heart when Vergil smiled: he looked so much like his father.

#40 – Innocence

She wasn't sure, but she thought her children had lost the last of their innocence the day she had had to kill someone she had greeted as an old friend for trying to kill _his_ children.

#41 – Completion

When the amulets had been joined together and her soul awakened, the sword was unsealed and his soul awakened: brought together again after an eternity by their children.

#42 – Clouds

The dark clouds turned the day his enemies came for her children into a night darker than her Dark Knight.

#43 – Sky

The sky was crying white tears of snow as she lay there dying, the desperate plea that at least one of the seeds of their love would survive this attack answered.

#44 – Heaven

Being stuck in a piece of gaudy jewelry wasn't her idea of heaven, especially not when she was forced to watch, helpless, as Vergil was tortured, but she wasn't complaining about playing guardian angel: only when she had her love with her had she ever rested in peace.

#45 – Hell

She had been brought up as a child to believe in the horrors of Hell and seen as a teenager the evil of the Underworld, but then she'd met a kind and compassionate demon.

#46 – Sun

Even though he was a creature of darkness, the sun had never burnt him, though she thought he was just as handsome with a tan.

#47 – Moon

She'd always been a night owl, demons came out by night after all, but she'd gained a new appreciation for the silver moon and the deep purple cloak of night.

#48 – Waves

She had avoided the sea at night after he died: deep dark color and silver crests were one of many things that made her remember what she was missing.

#49 – Hair

Silver and gold: she'd thought it was wrong that he was the less valuable of the two.

#50 - Supernova

She'd always wanted to go out with a bang, she thought as Dante fell and she cast the spell that was the last thing she could do to protect the only things left of him in the world.


	30. 0 Hallowed Refrain

Disclaimer: Don't own Devil May Cry.

A/N: As I said before, Rapture officially concluded with Part XIII Dark Night, but I am still going to do side chapters like VIIb Wonderful Journey and little things like 0 Faded Photographs.

_The first two drabbles of this set are new as of 5/21/06. _

_- Honor – Sparda_

This mating was not a simple thing, a combination of western customs and radical notions with his own kind's iron laws: by two out of the three he owned her now. The thought had a certain appeal, not that he would bring this to her attention. Although he had no doubt she knew. And feared.

She was wise enough to be very afraid of him (after all, he was a killer), and mad (or so she put it) enough to trust him.

They'd signed false names and made promises until death to honor and cherish. Beyond death, if he could.

_- Dance – Eva_

She'd hated the foxtrot and all the boring dances that were basically moving in socially correct circles while chatting, but when you had someone interesting to chat with they were… not as fun as swing dancing, but fun.

She'd learned swing dancing, twists and twirls, swoops and drops, and if he hadn't known it he'd picked it up fast. Inhumanly graceful, perfect deadly control.

When they played the waltz they waltzed, but when they played something with that swing they dazzled, smiling at each other and at the next best thing to fighting. Strong arms and gentle hands on her.

_- Poker - Eva_

"You keep winning." She threw down her hand in disgust.

"That is the idea of a game, milady." That slight smile he had when he was being evil. She loved it.

"It's not fair, you've had way more time to practice." Continuing the banter.

"It's not supposed to be fair, milady."

"You're a millennia-old supergenius from a superior race and I'm a protector of humanity who can't even protect her own shops. You should fall out of love with me, already." It was just a matter of time.

"We shall see. Care for another game?" He shuffled fluidly, face unreadable.

_- Serpent – Eva_

Old serpent. Phallic imagery aside (nothing to complain of in that department), it was much too literal to be a nickname for him. Too obvious.

But then, his name was obvious. His shadow was obvious. Demons didn't deceive, they let others deceive themselves, after all. So maybe she should call him that. Another clue who he was.

She was a fraction of his age, he could eat her right up in one bite if he wanted. That was old news.

He had many names, though. Did he really need another nickname, the Legendary one?

She'd just call him dear. Dearest.

_- Menagerie – Eva_

Hot pretzels: Five dollars each.

Hats: Ten dollars each.

Baloons: Two dollars each.

Stuffed animals: Twenty dollars each.

Having the zoo only open for them today: Thirty million dollar donation.

Visiting the zoo with her two boys: Priceless.

Replacing the polar bear they were about to kill: She didn't want to know.

"Vergil! Dante! _This_ side of the fence! Get back here now!"

"But mom, it swiped at me first!" Vergil complained.

"You got between her and her cub! You do not mess with momma bears! Now get back here before I use _you_ as a rug!"

They vaulted back.

_- Emerald – Eva_

"Why do you want blue orbs?"

"Because the green orbs disappear if you don't store them." Dante yawned.

"Vergil, what is this red thing?"

"It's a red orb. They're made out of demon blood."

"No, this is just a ruby." A really big, carved ruby. "You weren't sensing it, were you."

"Sorry, mom." He looked appropriately chagrined.

"Just because I don't have powers and have to go by looks doesn't mean you have to. A fake red orb could be a trap. You have your father's powers, Vergil. You should use them." She tousled his hair. "Make your dad proud."

_- Predator – Sparda_

He had thought of it, yes.

Of throwing her down, of breaking her. Of _owning_ her. Ruling her, until there was none of her that was not his, did not submit to him, did not live only for him. But she loved him, trusted him.

Her love gave him all he wanted, her trust bound him in chains that outlasted his own will. When they both tired of waiting, when her human lust arose and his own matched it, then it fettered him.

Such a delicate creature. Steel fangs and leather armor. Delicate, intricate, beautiful. Far too valuable to break.

_- Spawn – Sparda_

They drowsed within her, and he wove spells to fetter them, weaken them. Make them almost mere humans, make them weak the first years of their life, that she would be able to survive them, that they would not break her not knowing what they did.

Would they realize? Would they realize that this weak one had strength, that humans had value beyond price?

Or would they see only weakness to be broken, prey to be hunted?

Sometimes he feared his children would eclipse Mundus.

He would teach them better.

They would grow into wisdom and power, his precious nestlings.

_- Names – Sparda_

He had been going to kill that human, her father or no, for implying she was a mere succubus. Eva a mere succubus? That… that mortal _fool_.

But this was not the Underworld, and the insult was not truly to him. He, after all, was seeking a mate lower than a succubus, a mere human. It had been done before, but for someone of his strength to seek out such an inferior…

She had left without killing him. He should not steal her prey. He would not.

But he still had to hide suddenly red eyes before going to her.

_- Null – Sparda (reference to the crossovers in First Impressions)_

Really. Two of the British Government's best and brightest and they could not even spot him. Also, they were cheating at baccarat. He had been holding his own despite it, but the woman had pointed it out. She had been insulted when he had tried to back her up.

And she hadn't even known what he was yet. She herself was clearly a hunter. Certainly here for the same reason he was. Hunting another human risking their entire species to gain power.

Hopefully she would continue to be unimpressed by him. He wished to make this quick and avoid battle.


	31. 0 Chapter & Verse

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Please review, and if you have requests I'm generally amenable, as you can see by the dedications.

1. Poke – for Nemi

The paperwork was interrupted by loud thumps. The boys were on the other side of the castle.

She opened the door to the game room to see Dante fly by, hitting the wall right next to her before bounding up and throwing himself at Vergil. "Boys!" They froze. "What is this about?"

"Dante keeps poking me!"

"I did not!" Dante tried to poke Vergil behind his back. Vergil glared and punched him.

"Mind the furniture! Next pool table comes out of your allowances." She closed the door, shaking her head. Boys would be boys.

Somebody hit the door behind her.

2. Televangelist– for darknight604

"It's so stupid." Eva popped a caramel into her mouth. "Buying your way out of going to hell."

"Many did, during Mundus' reign. Swear fealty to him and provide him with slaves as sacrifices? Better than being dragged off to the Tower yourself. And do not humans today pay hunters to save them?"

"That's what's so stupid. He's going to spend it on gambling or loose women or his ego. A hunter could spend that money on bullets, wards for their shop, transportation. Stuff that actually makes a difference to people's lives." She snorted. "Most people are idiots."

He nodded.

3. Silver – for Nemi

Lying there in the moonlight, she examined his hair, looking at the moon and then back down at it.

"A penny for your thoughts?"

A soft smile. "The moon is a dead white. Your hair is silver."

"Yes?"

"I don't know. I think I wanted to be poetic. But there really aren't words." She sighed. "Happily Ever After. Those are words too."

"I know."

"Your hair is really pretty, though. You have good taste, choosing to look like that." She smiled. "Not as pretty as your eyes. I don't think anything could be."

"I would say the same for yours."

4. Ebon frame – Nemi

She looked through the photographs on the mantelpiece. "Let's see… this was in Paris." She handed one down to Vergil. Vergil looked it and offered it to Dante, who shook his head.

Eva, not noticing, passed him another. "This is him in devil form-someone asked about it once and I said it was a statue. See how tall he was next to me?" Dante nodded, glaring at the photo when she looked away. Vergil held out his hand asking for it and Dante handed it over.

Vergil looked at the dark knight and the woman surrounded by darkness and smiled.

5. Sweets for the sweet

"It was rough, getting used to being a 'commoner.'"

He fastened the diamond bracelet around her wrist. "You were never common, Eva."

She looked at the bracelet. "You keep giving me gifts. It's sweet, but sometimes it feels like you're trying to buy me."

He looked concerned. "Both demons and humans regard gifts as symbols of affection. Do they really distress you?"

She shook her head. "You're sweet. No."

He laughed. "Sweet? That's an interesting concept for demons. Emotional and edible."

"Am I sweet?"

"Very."

He licked her wrist. "Most definitely."

She giggled. Then blinked. "You just made me giggle."

6. Umbrella – It's the rainy season out here in CA

She had to stay tucked within his coat so they could both shelter under the umbrella. "As though a little water is a big problem."

"It would ruin your hair." They had just gone to a hairdresser.

"Maybe that's a good thing. It's all poofy." She grimaced. "I'm trying to be a proper society lady, but I can't seem to get into the swing of things. I should be ecstatic I'll have the most expensive hairdo there."

"They are shallow, you are not."

She looked at the ground ahead of them. "That puddle's definitely not shallow." They went around it.

7. Bed

They lay there, her head against his chest, looking up at the bed's canopy. Her hand lay over his on her stomach. "It's too early for us to be able to feel anything." Only a month had passed.

"I can feel them." Happiness in his words.

"Lucky bastard," she grumbled. "What's it like?"

"Only threads… they are content, not in pain." His hand stroked her stomach gently.

"They're not going to stay that way. Life is pain." Her hand gripped his.

"And also joy." He kissed her hair.

She smiled like an idiot. "No one'll ever be lucky as us."

8. Desk

He had moved another desk into the study.

Her desk was littered with wires, igniters, bullets, scraps of paper, a calculator, books she was going to get around to reading one of these days, and other debris.

His was spotless, with tons of built-in drawers that held everything.

"I thought women were supposed to be the clean freaks." She grinned. "I wonder what someone who didn't know us would make of these desks?"

"Rather a study in contrasts. But anyone who has met the real you would know that is your desk."

"Whereas you're Mister Immaculate."

"Immaculate also means pure."

9. Venn diagrams – prompt from Nemi

"This is called a Venn diagram." She drew two overlapping circles in the page. "You have circle A and circle B. There are four categories of things. Things that are neither A nor B go outside the circles." She scribbled with a yellow crayon. "Things that fit in only the A category go in A." Red. "Things that fit in only the B category go there." Blue. "And things that are both go in the overlapping area." Purple. "Understand now?"

They nodded. Of course they got it, this was elementary school stuff.

Not the sort of thing three-year-olds commonly learned.

10. Pulling taffy – prompt from Nemi

The kitchen was a sticky mess, and so were they. When taffy snapped because it was pulled too hard (and these two usually pulled it too hard), everything got sticky.

Dante and Vergil were in matching Blue and Red aprons, Eva's was black. They had been at this since early this morning, making homemade taffy to send to people as Christmas gifts.

She thought it was very possible the two of them had eaten as much as had gotten put in the boxes, and she blessed their demonic healing: she didn't want them to get upset stomachs.

"That was fun!"


	32. 0 Chantments

_Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry. _

_If anyone wants to request anything, it will probably get done, maybe even as a side-chapter/Codicil. _

_1. Mourn _

She missed him.

She missed him like missing an arm or a leg, there was still this phantom pain.

She would turn around to speak to him, expecting him to be there, feeling him by her side.

But he wouldn't be there.

He would never be there again. She had to understand this.

Because if she let herself hope she would wait and wait, sit around mournfully staring out windows.

Mourning… mourning the dead would be over soon. She hoped.

If he came back… it would be a pleasant surprise.

But she couldn't move on and leave the children behind.

_2. Eve _

They were so beautiful. She'd seen newborn babies before. They were ugly. Her, his babies were not, and it wasn't just the besotted mother talking. They were pale and delicate and perfect, already with hair, teeth, and nails. They didn't cry, they just watched curiously.

Holding them, Sparda had trembled, the first time she'd seen him like that. Without his fabled composure.

The old her, the her that hated demons, wanted to kill them now. What had she unleashed?

Innocent babes with the blood of heroes.

Or was she Lilith, who lay down with devils to give birth to monsters?

_3. Praetorian _

He had dozens of devil arms. Yamato and Rebellion were not the most powerful, but they were the ones who looked most like human weapons, with no strange lights or elemental powers to give their demonic nature away when he fought in front of humans.

That would not be a consideration in this choice. Loyalty, he needed. One that would serve a human without testing her to destruction. A devil arm for his Lady.

He'd come too close to loosing her. Not that close, but he could not bear the thought of being without her, not after knowing this bliss.

_4. Bottle_

Most who knew him would be shocked to see him now, his perfect clothing spotted with formula from the greedy baby in his arms that had bit off the nipple of the bottle and was suckling heartily as Sparda rocked the tiny nestling.

Would he have fur as hybrids often did, mammals as humans were, or the smooth carapace of Sparda's species of demon without the spell keeping him human?

What would his devil form be when he was old enough to take it?

But for now he finished the bottle and was laid down to rest beside his Twin.

_5. Anniversary_

She tilted her arms and the ruby-studded gold bangles made bell-like sounds as they slid on her wrists. "They're beautiful." She wrapped those arms around his neck, staring out from the balcony at forested mountains and snow-clad peaks. She pressed against his warm body.

"Happy Anniversary, Milady." He kissed her forehead, then her nose and then her lips as she tilted her head up to meet him.

"Only jewelry?" she teased.

"The color matches your hair." He tugged a strand up to show her.

He'd see his gift later, in the bedroom. He loved her in purple, in his color.

_6. Iris (pre-Elementary)_

She should be more nervous with a devil in the hotel suite next to hers. There was even a door between them. Her side was locked, his wasn't.

Yet somehow there was a long-stemmed purple iris on her desk. He must have had the cleaning staff bring it in. She didn't think he would invade her room. He was too… he wouldn't do something like that.

She trusted him, oddly enough.

She'd thought he was hot the first time she saw him. Until she'd seen his shadow.

No, she had no intention of being seduced by evil. Even gentlemanly evil.

_7. Glamorie (First Impressions)_

How had she spotted him? The shadow. He shooed the trusting girl away and stood to face her. This huntress' 'game face' was interesting. There was rage, tightly controlled. He couldn't help provoking her, to test her.

He'd used the prototypes of the spells that held her guns in her coat, it was as simple to lock them from her as it had been to deflect the bullets. Centuries of practice.

She quickly realized she had no choice and gave in, although she clearly intended to not die easily.

He needed information from hunters: she might be a good source.

_8. Tease_

The boy's arm was clearly broken. Strange, that her reaction to a demon harming a human wasn't _kill_ but annoyance that the human was being a crybaby coupled with righteous anger and annoyance.

Well, what did the brat expect if he teased Dante?

How _dare_ that brat tease her son!

Still, it was nice to know Vergil would still spring to Dante's defense, although the albino remark also applied to him…

That didn't mean she wasn't going to punish him for forgetting his own strength. He clearly hadn't meant to do that.

Humans were fragile. She would shoot Vergil later.

_9. Magic_

The seal had robbed Sparda of most of the power that had defeated Mundus. The legends that said he had sealed his powers and become human were partly right. _Something_ had to power the seal and he had refused to imprison the priestess' soul, even using a gold orb to revive her.

He couldn't let anyone know he was so weak. So skill had to compensate for raw power.

He was still stronger than any human, even his beloved lady. But he set the spells to guard his sons and hoped they would never be tested. Over his dead body.

_10. Fail_

This was her first time as a mother and she was making a mess of it. Being a single mother made it worse and really, none of them had died yet and that was a miracle, but she feared it wasn't good enough.

Vergil was so _sullen._ He seemed to think she liked Dante better, and she couldn't convince him otherwise, especially when Dante, hurt by Vergil's resentment, turned to her and she couldn't reject him, not when she was the only person who accepted him. What he was.

They needed their father; they needed someone to look up to.


	33. 0 Pentagram

_Disclaimer: Capcom owns and make money, I do neither. Nor do I own the poem._

_I already did S/E drabbles, but… but, Rapture. I love this fic._

My candle burns at both ends;  
It will not last the night;  
But ah my foes, and oh, my friends-  
It gives a lovely light! – Edna St. Vincent Millay

_51. Water _

She didn't believe in the Tarot, but this deck was absolutely beautiful: a gift he had been given. She flipped through, remembering what she had been told. Significators… people were symbolized by one of the royalty cards.

King of Swords?

This one seemed better: Judgment. Though wasn't there one for Justice? Temperance? He was very… balanced. King of Cups?

He was deep, and… she wanted him happy.

She drew again, for the future.

Courage: a woman and the lion, together and stronger for it. That was right. Next?

The Tower: disaster.

No, there was nothing to these cards. Absolutely nothing.

_52. Fire _

If she was a devil, her power would be to control fire.

Even as a human she did so, with her gunpowder-fuelled bullets and her grenades, mines… Quick, bright, yet slow-burning when she wished to be. Nimble… Beautiful dancer, he could be hypnotized looking at her and she had utterly destroyed his vision of a lonely future.

Set his heart on fire, burning red as the rose she was, though he feared he was the briar.

Would she burn out? Leave him with nothing but ashes?

He had best tend her carefully, for she burnt at both ends, his candle.

_53. Earth _

"The sands would run red with blood." Sparda gestured at the floor of the Coliseum. "Not just humans and animals fighting to the death, sometimes they would bring in captured demons. There was always a large crowd when they did that."

"I'm sure the demons put on a good show," Eva murmured, trying to imagine what these ruins would have looked like packed with a roaring, bloodthirsty crowd. "Ancient civilizations weren't very civilized, were they."

"It's amazing what has changed." Sparda took one last glance at the monument to human depravity, their similarity to his own kind. "And what remains."

_54. Air _

Eva swore everything she said went in one ear and out the other with these two. Sometimes she felt like she was yelling in a thunderstorm, drowned out by the world, by everything. So much they needed to _know._ So much history, so many necessary skills to learn. They would never know their father except through pictures and words.

She told them he loved them, she told them she loved them. They would love them long after they stopped drawing breath. Their quick, intelligent, brave perfect children.

If they would only _listen _when she talked to them!

Time running out…

_55. Spirit _

She'd heard of devil arms, of course, but she was more than a bit jealous. Yamato, Luce and Ombra were content in their service, but the ensoulled weapons had been with him since long, long before she was born.

That was the real trouble with the age difference: there was so much she had _missed!_

The only solution was for him to tell her more stories about everyone he had met.

And to bring her some coffee while he was at it, and cake. And strawberries.

And give her a kiss. And another, longer one. And take off that coat…


	34. Interlude: In Memoriam

_Disclaimer: I own nothing, Capcom owns all. Nor do I make any money from this. _

_This fic has not been forgotten! It will never die! _

_Okay, I know I've been sketchy about Eva's past. I explained the details in an AN for the benefit of people who aren't English majors and missed some of the pieces (English FTW), but I really should show, not just tell outside of the story, even. _

_So, Gabriel-chaos requested something about Eva's family. _

_Fanart trade offer: You see, something I've really wanted to do for a long time is to make a website and have an illustrated version of Rapture. I love books with illustrations: in an ideal world all books would have lots of good ones. _

_So, anyone who draws art that they'd be willing to have on the website (It doesn't have to be Rapture art, Angel Saga is fine or DMC in general) and e-mails it to me (or a link. Use e-mail, not PMs or reviews: ff . net deletes links and doesn't allow html or pictures in them) can request a fic. Or a chapter of something, like, I don't know, Rapture… But if you can draw and you'd really like more of some pairing or whatever from me, this is your chance. _

_- _

It was _that_ dream again.

Sometimes, Eva had dreams where she was perfectly aware she was dreaming. She remembered once she had a dream where she had won tons of stuffed animals at the state fair and put them under her bed in the hopes that this would somehow mean they would be there when she woke up.

She wondered what would happen in the dream this time. Most of the time she wasn't aware it was a dream, that was new. In the many years since the events she was dreaming about had happened, she had hundreds of nightmares of them, each one different.

Perhaps the worst ones were where she actually did prevent the events from occurring. Then, she had to wake up.

And Sarah was still dead.

She'd told Tony Redgrave (Sr, not his son) about this when she'd been trying to make him teach her along with the others to be a hunter, and he'd cut her off mid-sentence. Well, he already knew, having been the one to fail… Well. To prevent what was happening before her mind's eyes right now.

Not that she blamed him, though she had hit him, he'd insisted. Mostly to gauge her then barely-existent strength.

She'd been limber, though, that was what got her in. She'd been doing gymnastics for years (on the team at school) and she'd rode every day she could to exercise her horse. Including in bad weather. Weird to think that she'd ever have a practical use for the ability to do four consequitive backwards cartwheels. A hell of a way to dodge, or get out of dodge.

She wasn't thinking about that, though. Not right now. Even though this was a dream, maybe she could at least save her sister this time, in this dream. Even if she'd have to wake up afterwards.

This was adult her this time, not little-girl her, thank whatever for small favors. She wouldn't be dragged away with the others, she could kill those bastards. Cultists vs hunter was an old, old story with a well-rehearsed ending.

But she couldn't move.

She hadn't been here, so she didn't know what had actually happened. This time it was a gem that told them Sarah wasn't a virgin. And they needed _virgin _sacrifices, that was why they'd ambushed a bus full of recent graduates from a catholic girls school. And probably because they were prejudiced against Catholics, a lot of people were. Look at the fuss when Kennedy was elected, a lot of people thought that meant the Pope would be the real boss of the country.

It had been some sort of magic that told them of the lack in the early dreams. Once she'd gotten older and lost that innocence, it occurred to her that checking for the lack of a hymen was the sort of test perverts like these would have enjoyed more.

They were calling her sister a whore now, her and the other girls that had failed the test. She knew what was going to happen to them, but she couldn't move. She knew there was a gun in her hand (she didn't have the sense of touch in dreams, though her dreams were in color, the blood was red).

When she was younger the girls had been dragged off into the darkness and there was screaming, that was it. Now, she'd walked in on rape and torture several times, she knew the mechanics. And she had a good imagination.

Not to mention that she'd read the autopsy reports.

Sarah, Sarah in this dream was screaming, "Eva! Help me! Eva! Eva!" Which was obviously not how it had happened, if Sarah had thought of her little sister _Dolores_ at all during these events, she would have been grateful the helpless baby was safe back at home.

She wanted to help, but her limbs wouldn't move, someone was holding them, one of the cultists? Had she been captured in this dream? Ha, like amateurs would have taken her out so easily. She'd read Tony's reports on their deaths too.

She thrashed for a few seconds, then tried a move that would break bone, but there was an odd sense of weight and reality to that, and hey, was she _feeling_ fabric and skin?

Oh, shit.

The feeling that she was being held was because she _was _being held, in her own bed by her own husband. The voice calling out her new name had been her husbands, taken as fodder by her dream… she must have been waking up during that part.

He had been waking her up, because she was having a nightmare.

Too bad this wasn't one you could wake up from.

To recap: Sarah was dead. Dolores was dead because of this, a suicide with Eva rising from the ashes, selfishly leaving her parents and brother to mourn two lost children.

And here she was, sleeping (literally) with a devil. The kind of being her own flesh and blood hadn't made the cut to be _food_ to. And she thought he loved her? She'd let him marry her, fuck her?

Yes.

Deep breaths, Eva. It's over, it's been over for years. There was nothing you could do at the time, and how many lives have you saved since then? You've paid your dues, it's okay to be happy.

Sarah would want you to be happy.

She felt sick to her stomach. "Dear, the bucket…"

Damn it, she hated morning nausea.

Only a few more months. Then the real fun would start.

Oh, shit.

The parent's curse. May you have children exactly like you! What she'd done to her parents, by running away… And she couldn't tell her father the truth. As Sparda's father-in-law, he'd be a target. She knew that.

But… family was… She was crying. She never cried.

She'd been crying since she woke up.

Sparda held her, and she resolved to blame it on mood swings. Hopefully she hadn't been calling out in her sleep.

_Sarah! _


	35. Interlude: Uroboros

_This is for the people who have me on Author Alert: Nemi suggested that I make up for spamming your inboxes by reorganizing old fics by writing something for one of the fandoms that people actually alerted me for. I said yeah, I should just make up something as an end to Angel Saga even though I'm disappointed I won't be able to do the awesome ending I originally had planned (because I lost my notes twice and forgot), and she said I should write something while I thought of what to do. Here is her prompt: "Sparda and Eva trying to go on a normal human date. Amazingly, they are not ambushed by devils. They end up talking about flowers and guns."_

_It ended up having very little to do with that, although I tried to pull it back on topic at the end. I've probably violated at least something I've established about Rapture continuity – I'd promise anyone who pointed out any problems a oneshot if I was currently able to get myself to be disciplined about what I wrote._

_Tvtropesdotorg has a DMC characters page that probably needs subdividing, and Sparda and Eva always need more love. _

_Disclaimer: I don't own DMC: Capcom and any other rightful owners do._

* * *

"It's kind of worrying, isn't it?" She'd really prefer to be someplace without civilians around, someplace defensible, on a day like today, but Sparda had wanted to take her out and thus here they were, on the patio of a little neighborhood bakery and café. She could have argued with him about it, but a, she trusted his judgment, and b, it was his neck.

"Time flows differently in the demonic realm. I doubt more than, oh, two of Mundus' generals at the most know that this is the anniversary of the sealing of Temen Ni Gru according to the current human calendar, and I am almost certain that neither of them cares about human notions of timekeeping." Sparda turned the page of the menu. "On occasion, humans seeking his favor or my power attack today, but they've never been a real threat. A worthy opponent would know better than to pick such an obvious time."

"But they might think that you'd think that, and choose today as a day that you might have your guard down," Eva pointed out.

"Yes. The ones that think they're clever do that. The ones who actually _are _clever realize that I would have thought of that possibility myself, not to mention that the fact I sometimes get attacked today means my guard is up, no matter how unworthy the opponents usually are. Really, Milady, there's no need to worry." Not that he minded having a nice chat while knowing that she was carrying enough weapons and ammunition for a reasonably-sized war.

"The world's greatest swordsman doesn't fear the second-best, he fears the worst?" Eva quoted Tony Redgrave, who had probably been quoting from somewhere else.

"It's easier to make a seal, or any other defense, proof against normal, intelligent people than foolproof. Fools are surprisingly inventive, and will do things that a sensible person would have considered insane and therefore not anticipated." Sparda nodded. "And people who don't know what they're doing have to experiment, not knowing the limits of the possible. Although, thankfully, what they don't know tends to kill them before they get very far." He looked at her, arching an elegant white brow. Most people couldn't actually raise a single eyebrow, and had to get the effect by tilting their heads so that one eyebrow (and eye) was higher than the other. It did look impressive when someone pulled it off, Eva noted, although perhaps she wouldn't have found it so impressive if it weren't Sparda. "You aren't going to order anything?"

"I've been meaning to ask you about that. What is it with you and feeding people? I can understand how it saves a lot of hassle to give traumatized people something to calm them down," the tea he carried, "but whenever you invite me somewhere there's food involved." She tilted her head, curving the side of her mouth upward. "Should I worry that you're fattening me up?" She had, at one point, thought of that before dismissing it as silly, she recalled.

He chuckled. "Old habits? I was raised properly, after all, and while I've had to stop following most of the tenets of my upbringing to live among humans, just as you don't follow the rules of 'proper human society' among hunters, feeding guests appears to be universal. Among humans, bread and salt used to be a promise of hospitality, so if I offered it then they were more likely to believe that I wasn't going to kill them. Among demons, it's the course of prudence to keep guests well fed, because otherwise they might eat someone you find useful. Not to mention that if you don't feed a guest, they might assume that you're trying to weaken them and kill them while they're trapped in your demesne, and then they'll start trying to kill you before you kill them. Several rules of politeness come down to practical things like that, in the end. It's also a courting custom, in both species."

"I can imagine." She should probably just order something, then. She looked more closely at the menu and blinked in surprise. "Rosewater?"

"It used to be a very common flavor in Europe, and still is in other parts of the world."

"I suppose I'll try it then." For some reason it seemed deliciously ironic, so it might be delicious.

She let Sparda handle the ordering, because she was making a concerted effort _not _to remember how to act at nice restaurants even though Sparda kept taking her to them, and she'd feel bad if she scared another waiter. Although here it was a waitress, who had greeted him like he was a regular when he arrived even though he'd been here exactly once before (probably scouting it out for this, in fact, although maybe she was thinking she was more important than she was). Well, he did make a definite impression on people, but the trouble was that even though the waitress was certainly a nice girl, who was the niece of the owners (this was a family-run bakery that had been in the family for three generation now) with a fiancée who had brought her a very pretty ring that Eva had been able to price at a glance (the odd ways people were sometimes paid for mercenary work did that, not to mention that often sorcerers had stuff you could loot), she was being a very good waitress, which meant polite and cheerful and attentive and making suggestions about what they might like best…

The fact that Eva _knew _that this was entirely innocent didn't change the fact that if she spoke to the waitress, or even gave her too much of a _look_, the message conveyed wouldn't be, 'I'd like my coffee navy style,' but, 'back off, bitch, I have guns.'

And that always caused the service to be slow, meaning they stayed longer, and Sparda picked up on what she'd done. It made her feel utterly embarrassed, completely immature and like a jerk.

At the beginning, she'd assumed that Sparda would disapprove, but after the second time he seemed entirely pleased with how the evening had gone she'd remembered that right, he was a demon, and they _really _liked carnage. She trusted that he wasn't going out of his way to set situations like that up, because he was intelligent enough to know that would piss her off, and not in a good way, but he'd definitely view them as a bonus instead of an embarrassment.

Honestly, wasn't it supposed to be the man who would act all macho and protective and 'don't you dare hit on my girl?' She was all for gender equality, but she would prefer gender equality happen by everyone being raised to a higher standard to behavior, not… were they going to have female chauvinist pigs running around soon?

Given human nature, probably.

The actual _trouble _was that it was fine if something made the urge to kill rise when there was something to kill around. Otherwise, she started getting snappy at people, and it was fine to try to goad idiot gang members or mercenaries into picking a fight with her. If they were that stupid, then they deserved the valuable lesson the beatdown would teach them, and they might even thank her for it after the bones healed up. It wasn't fine to make waitresses who couldn't be more than eighteen run off somewhere to cry.

"You know," Eva realized, "I think I'm disappointed that nobody's going to attack today?" Wasn't that insane? Well, some hunters were like that, insanity was an occupation hazard when you dealt with demonic energy and battle-hunger was a tolerable form of insanity, but it wasn't one she'd had before.

"I could probably find something, if you'd like," he offered.

"No, I think I should see if I get the jitters."

"Hmm?"

"It hasn't even been two days. If I start going through withdrawal after going _two days_ without a fight, then I've got a problem." Battle-hunger was like any other addiction. "You're spoiling me," she accused, not serious at all, taking a look at the flowers in the vase at the center of the table. Snapdragons. As a child, she'd liked opening and closing their mouths, pretending they were roaring and breathing fire.

"I try," he admitted, nodding happily. Then he became a little more serious. "Is it wearing you down?"

"No, I hit the sweet spot before I finished training." One of the things that kept victims too confused to fight back was that demonic aura was, really, a spiritual poison. Hunters had to build up a tolerance. After you did, it just made you a little more alert, just sort of fed into the adrenaline rush and helped you fight without panicking or going berserk (if you stopped thinking, you were dead meat). Too much, on the other hand, drove you the bad kind of nuts.

"Of course, the Redgraves would have made sure of that," he acknowledged. "Then I'm sorry to say that the novelty will probably wear off soon." He leafed through the magazine he'd brought with him.

Another thing she'd noticed was that Sparda was decidedly not fond of eye contact. Oh, he was perfectly happy to stare someone down, holding them paralyzed while he moved in for the kill or making them scramble to comply when ordered out of his way, but he tended to have a few excuses to not maintain eye contact, like papers or museum exhibits that he was point out, handy when he tried to have a conversation with someone on friendly terms.

That was likely a big problem for him, because humans used eye contact to judge if people were trustworthy, as well as a whole ton of other things, so it was difficult to avoid making eye contact without seeming hostile, or at the most, uncaring.

Among a lot of animals, on the other hand, she recalled, eye contact meant either the boss was reminding someone of their place or an underling was challenging the boss. It was 'fighting words.'

Men with firm handshakes, fake smiles, and honest, open eye-contact, like used car salesman, were annoying to any right-thinking person. If she was right, it said a lot about Sparda that he had the self-control to not skewer anyone who introduced themselves with, 'Hello, I am an idiot who wants to fuck with you.'

It was probably a good thing that she wasn't the sort to want to stare lovingly into anyone's eyes.

Although that red was kind of pretty… Anyway, Eva asked what he'd meant by, "Novelty?" after clearing her throat.

"The novelty of me spending time like this in the company of someone who isn't a vassal or a student. I haven't since Vergilius, actually."

"That sorcerer you mentioned? The former lord of Fortuna? Was he the reason you had vassals?"

Sparda nodded. "He left me his lands after he died. I wish I could say that this was some sort of generous gift, or a sign of forgiveness, but really, he did it entirely to annoy me. Once it was mine, I was responsible for it, and the demons who kept coming to try to kill me, and the building repairs afterwards weren't even the half of it."

Eva winced in sympathy for the property damage, having lost far too many shops.

"For one thing, there were back taxes owed to the Empire. Mountains of them. He'd actually _gone to war_ a handful of times before the invasion started over them, and I inherited that whole mess. Augustus was willing to forgive them if I fulfilled the _other _set of obligations that came with the city and fought for him, which obviously wasn't an option either." Augustus might have been impressive, for a human, and Sparda might be a terrible, traitorous excuse for a dark knight, but he certainly would never give fealty to a lord who couldn't defeat him in battle. "Of course, along with his lands I also inherited all of his _other _property, including the keys to the magical defense system he'd set up for Rome, so after things dragged on in the courts for about a century a trade was arranged."

"He went to war with Rome and they let him keep control of their magical defenses?'

"Well, during the war against Mundus there wasn't anyone better, and afterwards they would have had to pry them from his cold, dead fingers. If they could. If he hadn't kept them, there might have been real trouble, because Augustus needed revenue in order to rebuild, no one was happy that Vergilius didn't have to pay, no matter that the original injustice had been entirely the Senate's fault, and someone might have insisted they try to take the money and grain from him yet again." Sparda seemed almost admiring.

"Going to war against one of the two heroes of the war, not counting myself of course, and the forces he could muster would have destroyed the Empire at that point. Augustus knew it, and knew that Vergilius wouldn't back down, neither for his own sake nor to preserve Rome, a country that had disrespected him and his family too many times. Others were not so intelligent. However, they _were_ intelligent enough to recognize the strength of the statues that prowled their streets at night and smashed thieves, and realize that Vergilius could have sent them after anyone who tried to raise the motion in the Senate. He wouldn't have, if they'd tried to pick a fight with him he would have practically sent them an engraved invitation, but they didn't understand that, either."

"So he was your only other… friend?"

Even though he didn't give her a yes or a no, he seemed "That would depend entirely on your definition of friend. He would have seriously considered killing you for even asking that, as well as because… Well, no, he'd probably have mounted a semi-serious attempt on your life the moment I introduced you, and then more thoughtful ones starting about a week later. It would have been fairly difficult to keep you alive."

"Really?" That was impressive.

He nodded. "Oh, certainly. Even though he wouldn't have _quite_ been serious about it, the same way he wasn't quite serious about his periodic attempts to kill _me_."

"So you killed his wife, and he attempted to murder you, but not that hard. And he kept attacking you, but you didn't kill him. So you were friends, then."

"By devil standards, certainly. For humans, I have observed that the people who insist the most vehemently that they aren't friends will often be as reliable as those who call themselves best friends."

"If they didn't care, then they wouldn't be insistent," Eva agreed. "Everyone knows that when someone angrily denies that someone else is their boyfriend that's a giveaway they have feelings for him. What _kind_ of feelings is still up for debate…"

"…but in the end, the division between positive and negative emotions that humans think there is doesn't really exist. Power is power." He paused. "No, I shouldn't say that. That's how it is for us, but humans are not the same and I have no right to make sweeping statements about another species and what is best for them like that. Even if the lines are growing less and less clear-cut."

"Less clear?"

"I've told you about the hybrids of Vie du Marli, and the ones who flocked to Fortuna once they accepted me as their lord and it became a safe haven from the persecution that followed. Despite Mundus and sorcerers killing them, they've had children, and those children have had children. Devils and humans have been, well, in the vast majority of cases I wouldn't call it inter_marrying_, since your world came into existence, or at least since we became aware of it. A lot of them weren't especially powerful. After all, it wouldn't do to have your scout decide to create their own kingdom. Yet, Mundus did have some justification for claiming that our two worlds and two races were one."

"I would probably have been horrified by that idea not all that long ago." Before I met you. "Now that I think about it, though, I wonder why I didn't realize it before."

"Everyone is good at seeing things that they don't want to see. " Sparda looked over Eva's shoulder meaningfully, and the conversation paused as the waitress neared.

More food was brought, and Sparda ordered a few more things – he seemed to have a penchant for small things with interesting flavors. And quite a lot of calories, when he wasn't eating meat. She wondered if he had some trouble metabolizing sugar. Was there fruit in the demon realm?

"Speaking of which," Eva waved at her. Was it really ok to discuss all this in the open air? Even if they had a good view of their surroundings.

Sparda just gave her an amused look. She was missing, something, wasn't she.

The café was attached to a little farmers market as well, tucked away in the hills. There were a few old-timey things around, like a blacksmith's shed, that seemed to see some use. Guns in a place like this were tools in the same way tractors were, nothing unusual about having them. "We aren't _that _far out of New York." So her first guess couldn't be right. She would have known if there was a resupply center here.

"Not everyone gets along with the Redgraves," Sparda reminded her, "because of their stances on certain things, like guns and myself."

What? "Why would anyone be against guns?"

"Some regard them as a crutch. There has been a growing movement for the past couple centuries that, with the date Mundus will recover from what I did to him looming, humans need to apply the scientific method to magic and learn how to harness it without going insane. Learn how to match the feats of the ancient sorcerers."

"Oh, damn, don't tell me. Pagans?" Those idiots?

"Yes, that's the general hunter's reaction to the idea. My view is that the hunters are quite right. Human ability to handle magic has decreased by several orders of magnitude since Mundus' invasion, for several reasons. One, there are very few remaining 'pure' partbloods. Even the groups that retain a high percentage of demon blood can't easily tap into their ancestral abilities, because they retained that high percentage by marrying descendants of other demon species, with other abilities and affinites. Speed, strength, healing and so on are universal: advanced magical techniques aren't. There are practically no 'natural' mages left in the world because of this, humans with abilities that they can use instinctively, which is why science rejects the idea that there are people who can heal by laying on of hands and so on. Where are they, they ask, and they're gone, or the product of years of training, during which they are taught secrecy. In the old days, random magical talents would often show up in throwbacks. They got weeded out of the gene pool as well, after Mundus. Even 'telempathy' is almost extinct in the general population, and that's a pre-requisite for feeding, and with it accumulating enough power to compensate for lower aptitude. And it's a lucky thing that it's almost extinct.

"At the other end of the scale, there are very few people left without not just demon blood, but latent demonic instincts. When those people attempt to gather power the way Vergilius did, sorcery, it awakens those fractured, broken instincts. Often including that telempathy. Some species were even telepathic, and currently, there is not a single place on earth that humans can survive in that doesn't have human mental energy there. Not concrete auras or souls, that given off by billions of people over thousands of years of no harvesting, snatches of sins and desires. Natural telempaths go mad from that very, very early in life, often enough. Humans with malformed telempathic abilities and instincts? When they attempt sorcery, they inevitably end up channeling that energy through improperly formed channels instead of the rituals of the ancients. Perhaps only a whisp at a time, but the damage steadily worsens, and they end up incapable of reasoning like either a human or a demon. Creatures with absolutely no honor code at all. Although I have little right to say that."

"Ah," Eva said, finally realizing the point of this conversation. "I'm assuming that our children wouldn't have those problems?"

"They'd have both natural techniques and the ability to handle sorcery without going mad, yes. I certainly would make sure that they had every advantage."

"And this is in order to let me know about this other faction." Human hunters, partblood protectors, and… scientific sorcerers? That thought was amusing.

Sparda had _style_. Everything had several layers and served several purposes automatically. And Redgrave had confessed to being impressed with _her _tactical skill. She really had to hand it to him.

"Look there." He pointed to a bit of decoration. "Uroboros. The guardian serpent that encircles the world. They're excavating several ancient sites in order to try to learn how to replicate things like Vergilius' defense system. They also want access to my library. For the past forty years now, they've been on the brink of attempting to attack me and take it, even though that would mean war with my own allies."

"You obviously aren't going to hand it over. If you hand it over and they try techniques that _used to be_ safe, then not only will there be a whole new crop of evil sorcerers for Mundus to recruit, but they'll blame you. Say you tampered with the books and records. "

"Very astute, Milady."

She had managed to delight him, and that always gave her warm fuzzies. She tried to blink them away. "You wanted to show me them, so you came by earlier to scout the place to make sure they wouldn't try to kill us, and chose the anniversary to visit so they'd be reminded of why you're a good guy? I honestly thought the waitress was perfectly harmless."

"She's female," Sparda told her. "She knows that we're not laymen, but I'm almost certain that's the extent of what they told her. She may think we're normal members of their group."

What? "But, the priestess." If there was sexism, wouldn't it be the other way? Bastards.

"They don't care about the priestess. She was a partblood. That's not what they're trying to replicate, the more fool them. Due to the fact that human females are linked to the minds of their children during pregnancy…"

"Now you tell me this." Well, that was the point of this conversation.

"It's not a very good link, but it is there, even in pure humans. Women tend to be more inclined towards handling mental energy for this reason, which is part of why the myths about virgins and so on. The most vulnerable period is between the beginning of the first pregnancy and bringing the first or second child to term. The mind is open during that period, since it 'knows' that there's something that it should be ready to link to but doesn't know exactly what it is yet, and can be fooled. For a hunter, that's extremely dangerous."

"Blood in the water," she murmured, leaning forward over the table.

"If we ever go through with it, I'm essentially going to have to keep you under house arrest during that period."

"Provided I have permission to shoot you."

"Granted."

"Alright then."

"In any case, if you're trying to avoid having your sorcerer trainee handle energy using instinctive means, then the best trainees would be women with the proper bloodlines who have already had several children. Which is another reason you wouldn't approve of these people."

"You're kidding me." No. He wasn't.

"I have been very tempted on several occasions to allow them to pick a fight with me, instead of trying to mend fences. Sadly, I have more important priorities." And with Mundus on the horizon, this was a _bad time_. "However, some other people have decided to start that fight. Normal humans, with normal mercenaries. Should the recovery mission succeed, the exposure of the 'cult's kidnappings' should take them off the playing field, for the next thirty years or more."

"You're kidding me."

"I may have made a mistake, by telling them the reason I wouldn't give them my library. If blood is the problem, then they're determined to solve it, and that eugenics nonsense isn't too far in the past. Taking slaves for reasons related to magic is one of the ten signs of the lost." The criteria used to judge whether or not a hunter had started to go too far, whether they were in their right mind or not, dealing with demons for power or not. No hunter in their right mind would do any of those things, _because _they knew it meant everyone would be gunning for them. "They've come under the impression that the ends justify the means, when it's the means that determine ends. They claim they're not really doing anything wrong, that those children would die, or worse, if Mundus won and that makes the inhuman acts they're performing for power alright somehow."

He sipped from his own coffee, now, for the first time since it had been poured, as Eva stared.

After a moment, she managed to speak, voice even. "How do I tell who I should shoot?" Who was lost to humanity and who was an innocent victim of cultist brainwashing?

"Difficult. They even had the audacity to tell me that I myself was a traitor, and _claimed_," there was actually a hint of anger in his voice. "That actually mattered to demons. So, they said, I had no right to say anything about the actions humans took to protect their own. That I should just get out of their way and give them the human knowledge that it was their right to have, or else they'd consider it evidence that I was really humanity's enemy. 'If you're not with us, you're against us.'"

"You have got to be fucking kidding me."

"Vergilius' notes are mine. They are a responsibility that he threw on me, yes, but he would rise from his grave to net and spear me if I ever handed them over to people who demanded what was not their due. The books that were his starting point are of demonic origin, in any case. If they want the same right to them than he had, then they should earn them the way he did. He earned them with guile," Sparda admitted. "But he still earned them. A demon has no right to that which they cannot protect."

Ok, why was he telling her this? After a moment, Eva's eyes narrowed. Maybe he wasn't telling _her_.

"While I am used to fools trying to kill me," Sparda continued, voice flint-hard with contempt, "I only allow demons and sorcerers to do it once. I allow well-intentioned fools to do it twice. Try it three times, and one had best be a personal friend or student. Not to mention that poison in coffee syrup is insulting. I have enough control over my personal energies not to be harmed by a weak conductor in a small dose. You might as well have given a human a shot glass of seawater. Or one of those vitamin supplements, really. Honestly," and now he was addressing her. "It'll be _peppermint oil_ next time, or garlic. Having a minor negative effect on some partbloods' ability to manipulate energy doesn't prove _anything_ about the effect on a full demon, much less that it will make them fall apart, and different species have different immunities as well. If this were, 'state of the art,' the way they claim, then your species really would be too stupid to live."

"Can I blow this place up? I brought the tweaked napalm."

"Tempt me," he breathed, "but some other time."

"If you wanted me to leave this place peacefully, then you should have told me all this after we left. It's your own fault," she told him, feeling around under the table. There, a microphone. She pursed her lips, furious with herself as well now."I am going soft. My brain is rotting. I thought I was prepared for an attack and I just didn't think that there are multiple kinds of attacks. There are ways of killing people that don't involve guns and bombs." She should have remembered from her childhood how you could destroy a man, you could destroy a _world_ with words.

She'd grown up around others in the financial industry. Very few families hadn't lost someone to the beginning of the Great Depression, as well as the wars. And what had started the Great Depression had been _trust_, trust misplaced, not even trust betrayed.

"The ones who knew left before we arrived. They know devils have the ability to taste emotions, after all."

"You're sure no one stayed behind to finish you off?" That she could finish off?

"I had Luce and Ombra in the air, scouting." His handguns were devil arms that turned into birds: Luce often got used as a signal flare or light source for people who couldn't see in the dark: Ombra was more suited for stealth work, although she still didn't know if the invisibility could be applied to someone else. "I'm fairly certain this was a threat and a test run, the more fool them. If it had killed me, wonderful, if it hadn't then perhaps they thought it would make me more amenable, to have a taste of fear. Terrible pun, that. My apologies, Milady."

He wasn't going to divert her that easily. "Can I kill them? It's my species they're making look stupid."

"There would be consequences." That wasn't a yes or no.

"Can I help the mercs who are going to be killing them?"

That was more like it.

"Would you like any flowers? I noticed you admiring the snapdragons."

"If we do have kids, I need to show them how you play with these." She removed from the stem and put her fingers in. "Hssss."

* * *

Regarding the net and spear comment – I tend to give my ficverse's version of Vergilius (a fictional sorcerer from that time period I read about in a book and use in order to avoid using OCs) a retarius' weapons: they were a type of gladiator that fought using a weighed net and a trident, capturing and spearing their opponents. It kind of fits, given how he tended to deal with opponents in the story, from which I also derive his dual water/fire affinity. Spear/staff's the elemental symbol of fire.

And, I'm sorry Nemi, but plot ate your fluff, sorry. The characters are very driven people, what can I say? I meant to include chibi!Arius in this fic, and have Uroboros be something that started out idealistic and became corrupted later on, but Eva kept asking questions and Sparda kept providing very disturbing answers. I'll work on reining in these muses when I'm done reviving them.

I managed to establish Raptureverse background for both DMC2&4 in the same fic. Well, it's a start. I'll get around to incorporating 4 fully one of these days!

I'm still not certain if the cathedral was built on eggshells or Sparda yanked Vergilius' castle and used it as the base around which he built his current one. You know Tony Stark in the first Iron Movie? Dial down the crazy awesome and replace it with more Guile Hero, replace most of the narcissism & hedonism with stubbornness and a vengeance kick, and that's kind of how I see the guy.


	36. Codicil I: Candy

_This is a thank-you giftfic for Eosrose, who made a podfic of one of the short D/V fics I originally did for the lj group Springkink. You can find a link to her podfic on my profile._

_She requested family/fluff/a fairytale twist: I hope you can guess the fairy tale here._

_Reference to Ifrit from DMC1, and Vergil's... sudden loss of IQ compared to the novel in DMC3. _

* * *

"What did I say about…" Eva suddenly realized that she never _had _told them about strangers with candy. Not specifically. She'd told them to stay by her side in public like they were chained unless they wanted to be put on the kiddie leashes (actual chains from a devil arm that was able to disguise itself: better to be considered a crazy lady than have her children killed) again, and she'd mentioned that demons wanted to kill them and they shouldn't be stupid _repeatedly_, but not candy.

And it wasn't even candy: the sorcerer that must have been after the bounty on Sparda's children had taken them into a specialized smithy (swords, guns, enchanted metalwork) and tried to trap them in the blast furnace. The two of them had been lured by sharp things.

Vergil hadn't even noticed that he'd been locked in a room with reinforced walls, too busy looking at the swords, and Dante, "Did you really have to just walk into the roaring blast furnace?"

"But he dared me!" Dante said again. At least Vergil making fun of him for it was getting it through to him that this had been a Bad Idea, although with her luck, he'd insist that it hadn't been and do the next thing someone dared him to just to prove that he wasn't embarrassed at all.

Face, meet palms. Eva had been sneaking around until that happened, trying to figure out what she was dealing with before it came to a pitched battle – she didn't want to risk him grabbing Dante to use as a hostage – when Dante had started to just walk right in. So she'd had to run forward and kick the bastard into the oven.

Her hair was going to be as white as Sparda's had been before much longer if they kept this up. "No tomato juice for a month. And lots of fish." He needed more brain. "As for you, Vergil… No, you may _not _take those back with us."

"But they're loot!" Vergil said, from behind the mass of swords he was holding by the rope he'd wrapped around them. "_You _take stuff from the sorcerers you kill all the time."

"First off, _you _didn't kill him, you got yourself captured. I killed him while you were too busy looking at shiny things. Do you really think I'm going to reward behavior like that by letting you take all those home?" Eva asked him. "Alright, you two: What have we learned today?"

"Don't get myself barbequed just because I'm dared?"

"Don't go off with weirdos just because they promise swords?"

Inwardly, she groaned, because the real answer was obviously: Absolutely nothing.


End file.
